


How To Win A War

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O Undertones, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Background Sabriel, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Childbirth, Demonic Warfare, Fluff, Happy Ending, Intrigue, M/M, Mpreg, Political Alliances, Possessive Dean Winchester, Pregnant Castiel (Supernatural), Prince Dean Winchester, Public Hand Jobs, Rough Sex, Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: The taming of his angel has brought a love Dean Winchester could never have imagined into his life but it has also revitalised the humans in their seemingly endless war against the demons. The newly mated couple are given no time at all to enjoy each other, instead, they are dispatched to assist at the failing front, the last line of defence against the demonic hordes.With an angel onside, Dean assumes winning the war will be a breeze but he soon learns that nothing is ever that easy, not even a love between two who are meant to be.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 47
Kudos: 116
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [How To Tame An Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198233) by [anyrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei). 



> Oh hey there! 
> 
> So anyrei wrote an amazing fic wherein Dean Winchester had to tame the angel Castiel (which was done through glorious smutty claiming - it's beautiful) and they gave me permission to write a little something something based in the same universe. I don't normally do WIPs but this is gonna get lo-oooong and I was too excited to sit on it so I'm throwing into the world as I go. I hope I do anyrei's fic justice (you should read that first - not for any plot reasons, just because it's SO GOOD) 
> 
> This takes place between Timestamps 2 and 3 and will update at least once a week. 
> 
> Stay safe out there people!

* * *

Castiel could remember times when the human kings had gone on progress. Well, he didn’t so much remember it as he remembered hearing about it. He had never been part of any of the deputations to the humans, not even when he had seen service on their battlegrounds. But he had heard stories of such things, at least. In the days before the war had taken root in their own lands, the kings had travelled across their kingdoms, greeting their people, touring the many great houses the land had to offer and wherever they went, feasting would inevitably follow for all concerned, not just those who had the pleasure of entertaining their liege.

The mating of the Crown Prince would have been cause for such a tour, regardless of whether it had been through the taming of an angel or an older, more traditional human alliance. The latter was increasingly uncommon; the humans needed angelic blood to strengthen their forces, the angels needed the humans to calm their grace after the wild hunt. That was to say nothing of the increasing hostility of the demonic forces. They had advanced far in the last few decades alone, conquering so many of the human kingdoms that there weren’t all that many left to form alliances with.

Not even the mating of the prince to an angel was enough cause for celebration. Idly, Castiel wondered how different it would have been if they weren’t at war with the demons. There would be more than just the two of them for a start. Instead of a horse each they’d surely have an open carriage, or if they were to ride their own mounts, they would be draped in the royal livery instead of a worn saddle that had seen so much use it could barely be considered comfortable.

There would be crowds to greet them at every leg of their journey, instead of the occasional wide-eyed urchin, staring up at them in confusion which really just showed how little domestic traffic the world saw these days. Those that didn’t shut themselves away at the first sound of hooves on the road were more used to military parties rather than two travel-worn and dusty travellers who looked as though they’d never seen a bath in their lives, let alone a royal palace.

Wherever they went there would have been nobles to greet them and palaces for them to stay in, rather than the tent they’d brought with them or the occasional bartered room at a tavern. Not that Castiel minded any of that, as long as he was with Dean he would stay anywhere.

He looked over at Dean, the Prince, his mate and smiled, warmth swelling within him at the mere sight of him. If this was a progress, Dean would be smiling instead of the tight, drawn look that shadowed his features now. He would have shown off the kingdom, pulling Castiel away from whatever official functions they needed to attend in favour of showing him the fields or the rivers. He’d want to show Castiel everything, especially the dark corners where they could make out until someone noticed they’d gone missing and came looking for them.

Dean would have taken as much pride in introducing Castiel to his people as he would showing Castiel the sights, but there was none of that. If anything Castiel could sense the shame Dean felt for the state of the land. The further south they travelled, the fewer signs of a prosperous kingdom they found. Everything seemed grey. The fields that were initially so green and brimming with crops became sparser and sparser. What towns they passed through were practically deserted and what faces they did look into told a grim story of survival this close to the front. If anyone was pleased to see Dean, they did not show it. Nobody even waved. They barely looked up, occasionally stopping what they were doing long enough to glance, unimpressed, at the two of them, even though they must have known who they were.

Dean’s expression became further and further away from the bright smile Castiel had become so accustomed to even in such a short span of time, but Castiel didn’t have all that much of an idea of how he could help. When Dean paused, looking over a vast, blighted field, Castiel drew his horse beside him and reached for his hand, squeezing it warmly.

“This used to be a forest,” Dean said, quietly. Castiel looked over the field with him, noting the clear gouges in the ground where trees had been uprooted, no doubt to assist in the war effort. “I remember my father bringing Sam and me here when we were younger. The front was a long way away back then, our Uncle Bobby lived just over there,” he gestured over to a small hill that looked like it couldn’t have supported life for a long time. He sighed and gave Castiel a weak smile. “Sorry, it’s not all pretty palaces and flower gardens. Every year we fall back a little more and lose more ground...bet you wish you’d mated someone with better prospects, huh?”

Castiel released his hand long enough to swat his arm, a little harder than he’d intended, but it served its purpose. Dean accepted the admonishment and took Castiel’s hand in his own, holding it tight.

“Your prospects didn’t play a part in our mating,” Castiel said, dryly, “In fact, if you’ll recall I had little choice in the matter.” Dean’s attempt at a smile faltered, at least until Castiel raised Dean’s hand to his lips to kiss. “I could never have chosen such a perfect mate.”

Dean’s smile was genuine and he leaned over both of their mounts so he could kiss his mate. There had been far too little of this since Castiel’s heat had ended and their journey resumed. When Castiel made to pull back, Dean reached up and cupped his face, holding him there so their lips could continue to brush over each other.

“Dean,” Castiel sighed, softly, “We should continue.”

“I agree,” Dean smirked, pulling him back in for another kiss.

“I meant the journey and you know it,” Castiel laughed against Dean’s lips.

Dean gave him one last peck before he drew back, looking more like a disgruntled child than the Crown Prince. “Fine, but you better believe we’re doing more than just kiss when we get there.”

Desire flickered through Castiel like a flame struck suddenly from flint and his eyes darkened. As though he would ever deny his mate such a thing.

“I should hope not,” he murmured, tamping down the desire to reach over and make good on Dean’s claims there and then. He spurred his horse on, there would be time enough for all of that.

* * *

The fortress from which Sam directed the defence of the South Border looked tired. It was impossible, of course, the stone had stood for centuries and would likely do so for centuries to come, but Dean could remember looking up at those same stone walls and trembling at how imposing it was. Now, several of the defensive towers had crumbled and been abandoned while the main body of the castle itself looked as though it were simply waiting for the demons to overrun it.

It was still day, the sun had not yet set, but it seemed much later under the black clouds that choked the sky, belching forth from over the hills. The demons had obviously set up a camp of their own just beyond the horizon and where the demons went, hellfire followed.

Beside him, Cas’ wings bristled and he rubbed at his nose, sniffing against the stifling smell of smoke laden with sulphur. It was a far cry from the gardens Dean had promised him the run of back home and not for the first time since their journey had started did Dean feel a pang of guilt for the life he was bringing his mate to. The week they had spent during Cas’ first heat, with nothing else to do but lie on silk sheets and bring pleasure to each other seemed very far away right now.

Sensing the shift in Dean’s mood and not just through the bond they inexorably shared, Cas let a hand drift onto Dean’s back, soothing him as though he were an animal that needed to be calmed. Dean couldn’t find it within himself to balk at the comparison and leaned into the touch, revelling in his mate’s comfort.

Dean shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his face as though he could banish the sense of hopelessness that seemed to permeate the air around them and had done since they had crossed into the Southern lands. “Alright, come on, I can’t wait to introduce you to Sam.”

Immediately, Dean felt the rush of warmth through their bond but even if he hadn’t, he would have known Cas’ excitement from his smile alone. It wasn’t a surprise that Cas was so looking forward to it, after all, Dean had talked a lot about his brother, the most important person in his life, at least until he had met Castiel.

The guards on duty at the gates let them in without much of a challenge, raising the gate for them almost as soon as Dean had called up the greeting reserved for royalty and military commanders. He felt rather than saw Cas’ frown and was inclined to agree; they hadn’t bothered with the usual test by holy water, something which could not be overlooked even if the king himself was visiting. In the back of his mind, Dean made a mental note to check how long the current guards had been on rotation and switch them if need be. He would have to bring their oversight to Sam’s attention but he didn’t want it to be the first thing he said to his brother, however pressing it was. Nor did he want to kick off his arrival by chewing out the men who were no doubt exhausted.

He dismounted in the courtyard, stroking his horse fondly as a stable hand jogged over to take her. Cas was perfectly capable of slipping off his own mount himself, but Dean reached his arms up to lift him down anyway, just so he could revel in having his angel in his arms for a few moments. Cas kissed him, a short, lingering thing as he stretched his wings out behind them, airing them after holding them tucked behind him for so long. There were several gasps from the soldiers scattered around the place, but they were soon lost to an excitable, young voice calling out across the courtyard, “Dean? Dean!”

Dean stepped back from Castiel in time for a figure, a good head shorter than him, to barrel into him, almost taking the two of them to the floor.

“Adam!” Dean beamed, “How are you?”

Adam held him for a moment longer before stepping back, his eyes wandering to Cas naturally, even though he was clearly overjoyed to see Dean. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the taming,” he said, falling over his words in his haste to get them out, “I asked but-”

“Hey, it’s alright and thank you for your letter, it meant a lot,” Dean had just about managed to reign in the urge to ruffle Adam’s hair before he gave in and went for it anyway. “So, Adam, this is Cas,” he said, turning to introduce them, “Cas, this is Adam, my brother.”

He tried to keep the edge of a challenge out of his voice, he really did. This was Cas, his mate whom he loved above all things and who loved him in return. But, old habits die hard and Dean had been defending his brother’s reputation since he was a babe in arms. Cas knew that, though he had admitted that he’d heard of Adam before Dean had mentioned him. He’d heard of him before Cas had even considered the possibility of taking a mate, back when he had been a soldier in the days before the wild hunt. Infidelity among humans was not unusual, not even among royalty. Infidelity when one was mated to an angel...that was considerably less common. Still, Cas grinned at Dean’s youngest brother.

“Adam! I’ve heard-” he caught himself smoothly, “I mean, Dean’s told me so much about you.”

Adam’s eyes were transfixed on Cas’ wings and it occurred to Dean this would be the kid’s first time seeing an angel up close. The queen had no reason to visit the Southern lands, even less since Adam had taken up station there and Dean knew that Sam deliberately kept him out of sight when what few angelic deputations made the journey arrived. Not for their sake, though Dean had heard that Adam’s very existence was something of a morbid curiosity to the angels, but so that Adam would be spared their staring. Which was ironic given how openly he stared at Cas’ wings.

“Can you fly?”

“I can,” Cas smiled, patiently and the instinctive hardness that had risen in Dean melted away. He had never had anything to worry about, his mate would not disappoint, greeting Adam as an equal.

“Why didn’t you fly here?” Adam asked with a frown.

“I wanted him to see the kingdom,” Dean said, quickly, pulling Adam around so he wouldn’t see Cas starting to laugh. They had flown together once, in the gardens back home.

Dean hoped he would never fly again.

“Now, come on, where’s Sam?”

Adam stood a little taller, almost to attention, “He’s out inspecting the warding.”

Dean frowned, “And, he didn’t take you?”

“We weren’t sure when you’d arrive. He’s been gone for two days but we’re expecting him back tonight or tomorrow. I’ll show you to your rooms, you must be tired,” Adam said, falling easily into the soldier’s role, even though Dean knew Sam made a point of keeping him close, keeping him safe.

“Lead on,” Dean said, smiling at how happy such a simple request made his brother, who practically ran ahead of them.

He held his hand out and Cas took it, falling into step beside him, though his eyes were wandering over the fortifications appraisingly and Dean nudged him to break him out of the trance. “Hey, there’s time enough for that. You heard the kid, we need to rest.”

Cas gave an amused hum, pulling Dean imperceptibly closer. “I believe I was promised things that did not require rest upon our arrival,” he whispered into Dean’s ear, marvelling at the goose-pimples that broke out at the mere whisper of his breath against his mate’s skin. “And as your brother won’t be back for some time...”

“Hey!” Adam called, having gotten a fair way ahead of them without either of them noticing.

“Coming,” Dean called, his voice a little raspier than he would have liked.

“You will be,” Cas murmured, which was funnier than it was sexy, so Dean elbowed him harshly in the ribs and they both laughed as they followed Dean’s oblivious brother. 


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel had not met Sam Winchester, the younger of the two Winchester princes. He had been at the palace when Dean had taken him as his mate, but at the time Castiel had had other things to focus on than the guest list. He had a vague recollection of being introduced to Dean's mother, but even then he had been more intent on breaking his chains and freeing himself than making small talk. Then there had been the taming where Castiel's eyes had been quite firmly on the man who wanted to make him his mate and not the gathered crowds. The ensuing heat had brought with it a great deal of exploration of Dean, but there had hardly been a moment for familial introductions. By the time Castiel and Dean had emerged from their rooms, Sam had returned to the front lines.

Still, Dean had talked a lot about Sam. _A lot_. Castiel felt like he knew the man already.

It was something of a surprise when Sam appeared later the same day Dean and Castiel had arrived and was nothing like Castiel had imagined. In fact, when Sam entered the room in which Dean and Castiel were waiting for him, Castiel’s hand immediately went to the blade at his belt, convinced a demon had found its way past the defensive fortifications.

Thankfully, his hand stilled just as Dean called out to his brother, throwing his arms around him, letting Sam slump into the embrace. In hindsight, a demon was unlikely to be escorted to the main hall, unbound, flanked by officers of the royal guard. Castiel approached, a little more cautiously than he’d intended, but then he had been taken by surprise. He could hear Dean speaking quietly, his hands holding onto his brother’s shoulders tightly, while the not-demon muttered a response, beyond Castiel’s hearing.

“And _this_ is Cas,” Dean said, happily, turning so he could introduce his mate, “Cas, this is Sam.”

When he turned to look at Castiel, Castiel could see for certain that this was not a demon. His eyes, for one, were hazel rather than demonic black. He was just very tall and absolutely filthy. Covered in the stench and stains of sulphur he barely seemed to hold the form of a human, but if Castiel looked past the evidence of the battlefield he could see a man. A man who held his hand out to Castiel, but quickly thought better of it and let his arm fall to his side.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cas...” he hesitated, looking surprisingly nervous for the man responsible for the defence of the front lines, “Sorry, I should have cleaned up before I came, I just,” he glanced back at Dean, unable to stop the smile crossing his face, “It’s been too long, man.”

Castiel let out the slightest huff of annoyance, as if he would be bothered by a little dirt, demonic or otherwise and he reached for Sam’s hand, clasping it warmly, letting his other hand linger on Sam’s arm as he said, “I am so very pleased to meet you, at last. Dean speaks of you often, in fact, he rarely speaks of anything else.” There was a spark of something where they touched and for a moment Castiel glanced down wondering what it was that would shock him so. But there was only his hand against Sam's arm. Sam was human with angel blood, if there was to be something Castiel could sense in his essence it should have been purity. Righteousness. This...this was evil. 

Sam seemed to catch his eye and pulled his arm away quickly, but he laughed, long and hard, though it sounded raspier than Castiel would have thought. As though he had not had cause to laugh for some time. “I’ll just go get cleaned up,” Sam smiled, “Then I’ll show you the perimeter.”

“What?” Dean frowned, “No, Sam we just got here, you just got here, you don’t have to show us around right now.”

“Yeah, Dean, I do,” Sam sighed, his smile seeming to hold less warmth now, “We don’t have the luxury of time down this way, every minute can be crucial. Adam!” he called over his shoulder and the young man came running.

“Sir?”

“I’m going to take their Highnesses for a tour of the perimeter, would you like to come?” Sam asked, obviously teasing even by Castiel's limited understanding of human interaction.

Adam’s enthusiasm was evident from his smile alone and he seemed barely able to contain his glee. The sight of it alone was enough to make Castiel smile; the way Adam looked so thrilled and the way Sam and Dean smiled indulgently was infectious.

“If you think you can get ready in time,” Dean added, laughing aloud when Adam practically fell over his feet trying to leave so he could prepare himself.

“I won’t be long,” Sam assured them, following Adam out, leaving Castiel and Dean alone again.

As naturally as the sun rising, Dean’s arm slipped around Castiel’s waist, pulling him a little closer. Castiel gave a hum of approval, leaving a chaste kiss at the crease of his mate’s lips.

“So?” Dean prompted, but though Castiel could sense his eagerness through their bond, he didn’t actually know to what Dean was referring.

“So…?”

Dean gave an exasperated sigh, “ _Sam_. What do you think?”

“Oh,” Castiel paused, considering that he hadn’t actually formed an opinion on his new brother-in-law. “He is very tall,” he said, eventually, but he chuckled when Dean’s face fell a little. “Dean, I’m sure he is a wonderful person, after all, you are the most wonderful person I know and you like him.”

Dean accepted the answer and didn’t pry any more for which Castiel was grateful. He didn’t want to comment on the things he had sensed when he had touched Sam, not yet anyway. It was probably nothing. Castiel had trained as a warrior, not a healer, he likely hadn’t correctly interpreted what he’d felt. There was no point in worrying Dean with it, not when he didn’t know what ‘ _it_ ’ was. ‘ _It_ ’ might have been nothing more than the lingering stench of demonic activity and would be washed away by the time Sam refreshed himself.

Certainly, Sam looked much better for a wash, however brief, and a change of clothes. He looked so different he felt the need to introduce himself anew to Castiel, reaching out to shake his hand as though they hadn’t already done so. Castiel didn’t shy away from the contact, frowning a little against the touch, trying to place what it was he could sense. Sam saw him frown and quickly dropped his hand again, pointing beyond the gate somewhere, showing where they needed to go, as Adam brought round the horses.

"What’s wrong with our horses?” Dean asked, noting the unfamiliar steeds being led to them.

“Our horses came from the palace,” Castiel answered for Sam, aware that all three of the brothers were looking at him in surprise. “They won’t be used to the terrain, the proximity of the demons or the brimstone would likely scare them.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly right,” Sam stuttered, but Castiel didn’t mind when Dean was looking at him with such open pride.

Dean held out his hand and Castiel took it, allowing himself to be steered towards the horse that Dean had obviously decided they would share. “You’re so amazing, you know that?” he breathed against Castiel’s ear, but Castiel only rolled his eyes.

“I may not have served in the human army but I was still a soldier, Dean.”

“You’re amazing,” Dean said, again, leaning in for a kiss, even though they had an audience and Sam was clearly impatient to get underway.

“In your own time, Dean,” Sam sighed, in the long-suffering tone of a younger brother.

Dean laughed, pulling himself up onto the horse and helping Castiel on in front of him. It couldn’t have been particularly comfortable for him, not with Castiel’s wings tucked against him the way they were, but Dean didn’t seem to mind and Castiel wasn’t about to protest the contact.

* * *

Even with his mate pressed flush against his back, Castiel turned his attention entirely to what Sam was showing them, watching him closely as though he might offer some clue as to what it was Castiel had sensed when they had touched. Perhaps it was just exhaustion? Humans were not as resilient as angels and Sam was clearly overworked. He carried the weight of responsibility for the garrison and he was obviously active in matters of defence. Castiel watched him as he pointed out where the lines of defence were failing and how he hoped to reinforce them; he looked tired. Castiel had little real knowledge of how to read a human the way some angels could, he could mention it to Dean though. Dean knew his brother, maybe Dean would be able to cast some light on it.

“This is our biggest problem, right here,” Sam sighed, pulling Castiel from his thoughts, directing their attention to a large stone that looked as though it had been defaced several times.

Dean slipped from the saddle behind Castiel, moving over to it, curiously. “What is it?”

“It’s a warding stone,” Adam said, which caused Castiel to look over in surprise.

“A warding stone?” he asked, noticing that Sam was nodding with a grim expression on his face.

“We have a whole trail of them and for the most part, they keep the lesser and mid-range demons off our backs. But, that just means that every few weeks they send one of their toughest guys out to mess them up. Then we have to come out to restore them and while we do they pick us off.”

Castiel dropped down after Dean, taking a moment to reassure their ride in such bleak surroundings. He moved over to examine the stone, just about able to make out the faint carving of a sigil etched deep into it, but not deep enough that it couldn’t be blighted by the swipe of a particularly vicious demon claw.

“I’ll be coming out later,” Sam told them, “It’s easier at night, though you wouldn’t think it,” he glanced up at the sky above them, scorched with black smoke and smog and scoffed, “Not that you’d even know it’s night.”

Castiel could see Dean about to protest, he could almost hear the argument on his tongue, but to everyone’s surprise, Adam got there first.

“Sam! You can’t! You’ve already been out three times this week, you need to rest.”

“Yeah and that would be great, Adam, but who’s going to repair the warding? If it doesn’t get done tonight then chances are we’ll be staring down the horde in the morning.”

“I’ll do it,” Castiel said, quietly, yet somehow with enough authority that Adam’s protest died on his tongue and Sam fell silent. Dean, however, did not look impressed.

“Cas, I’m not letting you put yourself in danger. You’re not going anywhere alone.”

Castiel smiled, fondly, at his mate and touched his cheek gently. “My love, who says I need to go anywhere?”

* * *

It was a sin that Cas should look so beautiful in such a place. A sin, a crime, an impossibility. It shouldn’t be allowed. The ground was charred and burned as though it had survived a blaze that had lasted for a thousand years instead of the comparatively few decades of war with demons. The stones themselves seemed to have given up trying to look steady. The horses were gaunt and Sam had lost a considerable amount of weight even though Dean had only seen him earlier that season.

Cas, on the other hand, looked radiant by comparison. His grace seemed to shine brightest here, where there was little natural light and even though there wasn’t a visible glow around him, to Dean he seemed to be a guiding light. He became a literal guiding light when he put his hand on the warding stone and the sigil became so bright that Dean was forced to step back, covering his eyes. It only lasted a moment before it faded, but even with the light gone the mark on the stone still glowed against the rock it was carved into.

Sam almost knocked Dean aside as he dropped from his horse, practically running to the stone to touch it, as though his touch could confirm what his eyes were telling him.

“Castiel, that’s- How did you-?”

Cas was looking between the three of them with visible confusion, his head cocked to the side slightly. “I’m an angel?” he suggested as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah but...our mother is an angel and she’s never done anything like this,” Sam said.

Cas took the point, “True, but your mother never fought with the Host. She never stood in a garrison." He hesitated, "The angels use several techniques to repel demons that you could utilise here. I could show you,” he offered. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle, finding it adorable the way in which his mate had mistaken the humans' silence as a complaint instead of awe.

“You wanna start by doing that for all the warding?” Sam asked and Dean noticed the way in which he didn’t bother to hide his desperation. Their father should have sent help sooner, he thought grimly. Still, he was here now, he could help now.

“I...I don’t have to,” Cas said, gesturing across the scorched field where even at a distance Dean could make out a faint glow and another and another, several springing up around the distant fortifications.

Sam looked between Cas and Dean while Adam grabbed a lens to sweep over the field. “That’s all of them,” he said, in wonder, “That’s all the warding.”

“Well, yes,” Cas offered, “As I said, the angels employ several techniques you could use here. I’d be happy to show you.”

“Oh please, yes please,” Sam breathed, looking like he wanted to hug Cas, but probably realising he didn’t know him nearly well enough, he veered at the last moment and threw his arms around Dean. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely and Dean couldn’t help but grin at his mate. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Isn’t he amazing?” Dean said, warmly, touched that Cas blushed a little and looked away even though Dean knew he was going to be complimenting him, loudly, to anyone and everyone who would listen for the rest of their lives.

* * *

They were on their way back to the fortress when Adam asked, suddenly, as though the weight of the question were forcing its way out of him. “So, hey, can angels send the demons back to Hell then? Is that why you’re here?”

Cas smiled patiently and was on the verge of answering when Sam spoke over them, “Oh hey, buddy, no, it doesn’t quite work like that.”

Adam looked between his brothers in open confusion, but Sam looked so tired, Dean didn’t mind taking one for the team and offering the explanation. At first it was something of a surprise that Adam had even asked the question, but then he remembered that it wasn’t as though all three of them had had the same education. They might all have the same father, but only two of them were princes. Only two of them had been raised to wage war, it was mostly Sam and Dean's doing that Adam had ended up where he had at all.

“Angels can’t banish demons. They can kill ‘em a damn sight easier than we can, but they still can’t send them back en masse. Only Lucifer, the one who started all this, God Himself or a Nephilim can do that and we’re fresh out of all three.”

In his arms, Dean felt Cas chuckle and he couldn’t help but lean in a little to nuzzle his neck, even though both his brothers were right beside them. Adam barely noticed, still frowning at the answer Dean had given.

“What’s a Nephilim?”

“The child of an angel and a human,” Dean offered and boy, the standard education for non-royals must have been lacking in the nuances of political alliances and warfare because Adam clearly didn’t have a notion of what that meant.

“But...” he hesitated, “Aren’t you and Sam-”

“Yeah, it’s complicated. Sam and I have angel blood but we’re not Nephilim. There hasn’t been a Nephilim born for...well...”

“Centuries,” Cas said, “The demons wiped the Nephilim out millennia ago and there hasn’t been one born since then. Not even from a taming. Nobody really knows why, some angels think it’s because the bond between human and angel aren’t strong enough.”

Even though Dean knew this to be true, the arms that surrounded Cas tightened around him, as though this were somehow a reflection on their bond, though both of them had admitted surprised them with its intensity. Cas, ever attuned to Dean’s mood, reached up and let a hand rest on Dean’s forearm, as though he could soothe him by touch alone. Which, admittedly, he could.

“Huh,” Adam murmured, with the distinct tone of someone who didn’t quite follow.

“I’ve got some books on the subject, if you want to read up on it,” Sam offered, but Adam seemed to be thinking in new terms already.

“So, Castiel, you’re going to be fighting with us, then?”

“Yes,” Cas said, in perfect time with Dean’s, “No.”

They both looked at each other, or at least they attempted to, but given that they were sharing a saddle it was a logistical impossibility. Sam and Adam had gone uncomfortably quiet, even though the silence that followed was hardly tense. Dean kissed the side of Cas’ neck and muttered, “We should probably talk about this, huh?”

Cas nodded, having completely given up on trying to turn his head in such a way that he could see Dean. “That seems reasonable.”

“So, Sam, how often do your men see battle?” Dean asked, deliberately changing the subject, only regretting it a little when his brother answered with the speed of a man who had thought of nothing else for weeks.

* * *

“I don’t want you out there in the field, Cas,” Dean said, the moment the door to their chamber had closed behind them.

“Dean-” Cas started, but Dean held his hands up to stop him.

“We agreed that you would come with me, we agreed that we wouldn’t separated, but...Cas, you know what the demons to the angels they capture, I can’t-” he broke off, crossing the room and pulling Cas into his arms, as though he could pre-empt the worst. Cas was a solid, grounding presence against him, his hands coming up against Dean’s back to hold him there.

Dean took a breath. Even though the stink of sulphur clung to their clothes from where they had been outside, there was still something uniquely Cas to it. Something underlying he could cling to. “I’d worry,” he said, eventually, “and I’d be so worried about you, I wouldn’t be any use to anyone.”

Cupping his face, Cas sighed, “I’m a capable warrior, Dean. You know this, if I can help, I want to. I thought that’s why I was here, to help you.”

Dean couldn’t let his mate stand so close, their bodies entwined without leaning in to kiss him, even though he supposed this could technically be counted as their first argument. “You _are_ helping,” Dean insisted, “You did that thing with the warding, you don’t think that helped?”

Cas didn’t look convinced. “I don’t want you out fighting either, Dean, but you’ll still go.”

“I _have_ to go. You don’t,” Dean argued. “I’m the prince, I can’t be seen to hang back while I let my soldiers, _my brothers_ fight in my place. But you...” he let his thumb trail across Cas’ cheek, “If you’re here and you’re safe, you’ll be helping me way more than if you were out fighting by my side.”

Cas looked into Dean’s eyes, if he were anyone else he’d be looking for the insincerity there, but Dean knew he wouldn’t find it. It was strange to be able to be so open with someone, so completely open, to know that Cas could _feel_ the truth of Dean’s words as well as hear it.

He knew that Cas accepted his words before he said anything. Still, when he breathed, “Okay, Dean,” Dean pulled him in closer and kissed the top of his head. “I’ll stay here, but please don’t put yourself in unnecessary danger. I’ll worry about you too. Demons hardly treat their human prisoners well.”

“Thank you,” Dean sighed, trailing kisses along Cas’ shoulder.

“But, I still want to help.”

Dean leaned in and kissed him, wondering if he’d ever tire of how soft Cas’ lips were under his. It was a foolish question, he knew he wouldn’t. “You do help, Cas. You help so much and you don’t even know it.”

Cas let out the smallest sigh of pleasure, letting his head roll back as Dean moved from his lips, across his jaw to his neck.

“Just being here is enough,” Dean murmured, crowding Cas into the wall behind them. He caught the smirk on Cas’ lips just before he tilted Cas’ chin up so he could devour it. Cas’ hands dropped to Dean’s hips, his lips parting in an invitation Dean was only happy to accept.

“We should bathe,” Cas muttered, just as Dean started moving them towards the bed, even though he was clearly more interested in Dean’s plan.

Dean drew back, allowing only the smallest of spaces between them. He didn't want to bathe, he wanted to strip his mate and make love to him on the same bed they'd made love just a few hours earlier. But, they really were filthy and not in a good way. “Yeah, you’re right. Together?”

Cas rolled his eyes and laughed, “Of course, together. I don’t want to be apart from you, not for a moment.”

Dean kissed him one last time, or at least, one last time for the moment, before he crossed the room and stepped into the hallway where, as he expected, someone was waiting just to see if the Princes would require anything that evening. It took no time at all to order a bath for the two of them and naturally, the attendant’s expression didn’t change even when Dean made sure to say they would only need one bath. He didn’t want there to be a misunderstanding.

When he stepped back into the room, Cas was gathering some clean clothes that the servants had already unpacked for them when they’d gone out with Sam and Adam.

“Dean, your brother Sam...” Cas said, casually, but Dean frowned. He could hear how careful Cas was being, as though he were forcing himself to be deliberately nonchalant. “Does he seem...entirely well to you?”

Ever defensive of his brothers, Dean’s immediate reaction was to jump in, demanding to know why he would want to know such a thing, but he forced himself to pause. To take a breath. This was Cas, his mate, Cas was not looking for a reason to attack Sam. He was just asking a question. And actually, now that Cas mentioned it, Sam had seemed a little... _off_. He’d lost weight and though his natural height usually exaggerated any time he got slimmer, Dean had noticed that he’d lost more weight than he would have expected. Especially given that there were no food shortages at the front, though Sam was prone to skipping meals if he thought he was busy. And there had been something...something Dean couldn’t quite place. Something in the corner of Sam’s eye, a glint that hadn’t been there before. Dark. Manic.

But then Sam had been at the front for years, hardly ever getting a break and Dean only got sent down after him when their father judged Sam’s letters desperate or pleading enough, preferring to keep his heir where the political decisions were made. Even though Dean hated politics.

Cas caught his eye and raised a brow. Well...not all politics were bad.

“I’m sure he’s just tired,” Dean said, forcing a smile, “We’ll make him get some rest now that we’re here and he’ll feel better for it.”

Cas held Dean’s gaze for a moment before he turned back to folding the clothes, seeking out something they could change into comfortably after their bath.

“Alright, if you say so,” he said, quietly, but he didn’t sound convinced.

Deep down, Dean was surprised to realise, he wasn’t either.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep was not something required by angels. Castiel did not strictly need to rest, not in the way humans did at any rate. He didn't need to close his eyes and surrender himself to slumber. That is not to say he _couldn't_ sleep, but it was hardly a practice he had engaged in often, something he had never done at all in fact, before Dean had tamed him. If his body had desperately required, he’d always opted for _yishenah_ , the angelic equivalent which could be likened to meditation more than it could to napping.

It may have had little practical application, but Castiel _liked_ sleeping next to Dean. Given how long he had lived, Castiel had thought there was little that could surprise him. Finding out the simple delight in being lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his mate’s chest, the steady softness of his breathing only to wake again, refreshed to find Dean exactly where he’d left him or smiling down at him, his hair mussed from where it had lain against the pillow, had been an unexpected pleasure. That was to say nothing of his dreams. _He dreamed_. He would not have known he was capable of such a thing and the first night had seen him practically throw himself from the bed in the morning, babbling about how they could possibly have been at the Citadel overnight. But, Dean had been laughing and coaxed him back to bed with soft kisses and soothing words, assuring him everything was alright. Ever since, Castiel had dreamt of kissing Dean somewhere in the sun.

There were other advantages too. Despite their proximity to hellfire, the fortress seemed to run cold. Even Castiel’s wings could not defend all that much against the chill that seemed to cling to the unforgiving stones, but Dean seemed to be unaffected. The man seemed to generate his own heat, radiating it even when he’d stripped down to nothing and there was nothing Castiel liked more than to curl up around him, letting Dean warm him by touch alone, lulling him to sleep.

Sleep was a luxurious treat. Something Castiel partook of but didn’t need. Yet within a week of arriving at the front, Castiel was exhausted, his very being yearning for the softness of their bed and the rest that came with it. The first attack had come on the third night after their arrival and it had been relentless ever since.

At first, Castiel had not known what was happening. It had been late, so late it might have been considered early and the clanging of the bell echoed through the hall, jerking Castiel, Dean and anyone else who had been lucky enough to be sleeping rudely into the world of the waking. Dean had thrown himself out of the bed, almost falling over himself as he pulled on his leather armour. It wasn’t the best he had, but it was the easiest to don.

Outside, people were shouting, all was a din of soldiers rushing to prepare themselves while still the bell rang, calling them all to fight.

Castiel held Dean’s sword out to him, trying to hold back the rising fear within him. He had known Dean would be needed to fight, he had not expected the prospect to be so terrifying. “I could-” he started, but broke off at a mere look from his mate.

Dean took the sword and hooking his fingers around the nape of Castiel’s neck, pulled him in for a kiss that was all at once too rough, too demanding, too scared and too gentle.

“Be safe,” Castiel breathed, unable or unwilling to pretend he wasn’t begging. But Dean only smiled and kissed him again, slower this time, softer.

“I’ll come back to you,” he promised, with such feeling Castiel could not do anything but accept it. “I’ll always come back to you.”

And then he was gone, running out into the hallway with the others. Castiel wanted to follow him, but he would only get in the way of the well-oiled machine of war, however chaotic it looked. In the end, he settled for making his way up to the ramparts, where he could watch the soldiers assemble.

Dean was, unsurprisingly given his lack of experience, one of the last to arrive. Sam waited in the courtyard, mounted on his horse, a heavily armoured steed beside him for Dean, watching the soldiers fall into line. They looked tired, most of them seemed to hunch a little and even from the distance, Castiel could see the weariness in Sam’s eyes.

It was all so different to the war along the Angelic front. There the warriors would be summoned to battle by a single blast of a horn. There was no scrambling, no chaos. Even their armour would be gleaming, polished between skirmishes by the cherubim who never saw the front lines. Castiel remembered remarking once to one of his brothers that war was an ugly thing, but compared to the way the humans were forced to fight; exhausted in armour that looked as though it hadn’t been repaired for months let alone cleaned, scrambling for order by what little light the torches provided, choked as they were by air thick with hellfire.

Dean had come back to him, as he had promised, filthy and covered in blood, but it was not his own and he was relatively uninjured. He went out twice more that same day. And again the day after.

“How has Sam survived this long?” Castiel grumbled, rubbing his eyes wearily as though the action could revitalise him somehow.

Beside him, Adam dropped heavily into a seat, bringing to his lips a steaming cup of what looked like brown sludge. A strange brew composed of roasting beans that grew nearby, it apparently helped the men feel more awake, but the sight of it alone made Castiel glad that he didn’t need to try it to get through what looked like another sleepless night. “He’s an excellent swordsman,” Adam pointed out but Castiel shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t need to sleep and I would happily kill a man if it meant I could rest. Dean and I are struggling after doing this for one week, how has Sam survived doing this for months? How have you?” he added as an afterthought. Adam raised the steaming cup in a grim toast and Castiel almost scoffed. “I feel so useless, sitting here doing nothing while Dean is out there fighting for his people-” he broke off suddenly, “I’m sorry, Adam, I don’t mean to-”

Adam looked surprised that he had caught himself and waved a hand, dismissively, “It’s alright. I get it. Sam doesn’t want me on the front so I just...wait. We’re not useless though,” he added, firmly. “We’re helping them by being where they expect us to be and looking after them when they get back.” Adam glanced around, as though to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard, even though there hadn’t been anyone in the room besides Castiel since the most recent signal had rang out. “You know, while Sam’s out, sometimes I sneak into his room and steal some of his books on military history or read the dispatches from the other fronts. That way, if he ever gets stuck I can offer good advice.”

He looked so proud of himself, barely more than a boy, that Castiel couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m sure that’s very helpful,” he said, approvingly. Adam’s smile, if possible, grew wider.

“It isn’t like this in Purgatory, is it?”

Castiel looked surprised that the boy could know of such a thing, but then, he had just admitted to reading through the history of the war so it was hardly a stretch.

“No,” Castiel admitted, “It’s quite different. The only way into Heaven from Hell is through Purgatory so it is far easier to defend than here. There is a front on Heaven’s side of Purgatory and the demons assail it regularly, but it’s not like this. It isn’t anything like this. The attacks, when they come, seem to have a lot more power behind them but they aren’t as...constant.”

“I’ve had some thoughts about that,” Adam murmured, so quietly for a moment, Castiel had to replay the words in his mind to ensure he’d heard them correctly.

“You have?”

Adam looked momentarily thrilled, “Wait here,” he said, enigmatically, as though there were anywhere for Castiel to go. He seemed pleased when he came back and found that Castiel hadn’t moved from the seat at all. He held in his hand a ledger of hastily scribbled notes with several dispatches folded into it.

“Look,” he unrolled one of the longer letters and held it next to a page where he’d apparently drawn columns indicating the strength of various armies. “The demons use their strongest forces against Heaven and their weakest for us. But what they lack in strength, they make up for in numbers. They’re so relentless they chip away at us gradually instead of Heaven which they’ve been trying to take in huge offences.”

“This is very impressive, Adam,” Castiel said, looking over the numbers. An entire column caught his eye and he frowned. “What’s this?”

“That’s a list of all the soldiers garrisoned in the kingdom.”

Castiel looked over it carefully. He hadn’t realised he was grinning until Adam brought it to his attention, though by the time Castiel looked up, it was clear Adam had been trying to get his attention for some time.

“Castiel? What is it?”

Running his finger over the numbers one more time as though he might have mistaken them, he eventually looked up at Adam, who had started to look worried that he might have done something wrong. His expression softened a little when Castiel smiled at him. “I believe you may have something here which will allow us to be useful after all.”

* * *

The sound of the horses' hooves echoed against the stone cobbles of the courtyard. Given the number of men and horses following and Sam beside him, Dean probably shouldn’t have been able to single out the sound of his own horse, but despite the number of them, there was hardly any sound. They were too exhausted for that.

A groom stepped forward to take the bridle, bringing Dean’s borrowed horse to a stop, but Dean didn’t move. All he had to do was dismount; a motion he was thoroughly familiar with and capable of executing, but right now his legs didn’t want to move. He looked down at them, they were still there, either side of the saddle where they should have been. They hadn’t been injured, he just couldn’t summon the energy to move them, staring at them as though they belonged to a stranger.

When he finally did move, his body protested the motion, as though it had been hoping he could have just remained sitting atop the horse for the rest of the night. Even the promise of a warm bath and a bed wasn’t enough to placate the aches that assailed him as he touched solid ground. Beside him, Sam’s feet met the ground and he stumbled, holding onto his horse as though he’d forgotten how to walk.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” Dean mumbled, hooking his brother’s arm across his shoulder ostensibly so he could support him, but really it was so they could support each other.

Sam rubbed a hand across his face, which only served to make it dirtier, “I’ve got to go through the reports,” he sighed, “We lost four more-”

“And you’re going to lose a lot more if you don’t take a break. We don’t know when the next attack will be, you’re going to bed,” Dean said, with all the authority of an older brother rather than a prince.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered. He didn’t seem convinced, but Dean was too tired to argue the point. Secretly, he wondered how it was that his brother was even capable of standing. The guy never seemed to rest. Whenever the alarm was sounded, Sam was always the first to answer it and the last to turn in when they pulled themselves over the threshold. In between he was always doing something and he had half a point; there was always something to be done. He must sleep some time, Dean figured, but still, he didn’t like the manic glint in his brother’s eye. It obviously wasn’t enough.

They stayed in the courtyard long enough to watch the last of the men drift towards the barracks, only four less than they’d started, but then the demons seemed more interesting in picking them off one by one, gradually wearing them down than killing them all. They’d be able to take the fortress with one well-coordinated attack at this rate and Dean thought it might be too much to hope that they didn’t know it.

“ _Dean!_ ” Instinctively, Dean turned at the sound of his name, relief flooding through him when he saw Cas crossing the courtyard towards him. Cas had been in no danger, still, there was something undeniably reassuring about knowing he was safe. After the things Dean had seen, the stench and blood that came with a battle, seeing Cas was like a breath of fresh air. He’d let Sam go and melted into Cas’ arms before he’d even made the conscious decision to do so. Sam let him go and Cas held him, holding him close, refusing to let go. He needed this as much as Dean did.

For the longest time, they stood there with Dean just breathing Cas in. He smelled like the first breath after a thunderstorm, clean, clear, a far cry from sulphur, fire and the dead. Eventually, Cas leaned back, giving Dean a thorough once over with his eyes alone to make sure there was actually nothing wrong, no injury that he was somehow concealing. Dean couldn’t help but smile at him, softly, amused even as he tried to be reassuring. When Cas was satisfied and not a moment before he looked at Sam, reaching out to him to check him too. Dean couldn’t fail to miss the way Sam drew away or the way Cas frowned, but then they’d just come back from a battlefield, Sam probably didn’t want to be pawed at by his angelic brother-in-law.

“Are you hurt, Sam?” Cas asked and it was probably Dean’s imagination but he could have sworn there was an edge to the question.

Sam waved him away, “I’m fine, Cas,” he sighed, exhausted, “I’m going to get some rest,” he said, pointedly, rolling his eyes at the two of them. Dean wanted to say something but he kept it back, it wouldn’t help for them to argue and given how tired they were it would be bourne entirely from anything except an actual problem.

“He’s fine, Cas,” Dean mumbled, as his brother stalked off, “He’s tired.”

“We’re all tired,” Cas muttered, following Sam with his eyes, but Dean drew him back, leaning on him a little heavier than he would have liked for support. Cas looked down, almost alarmed, “Let’s get you warm,” he said, firmly, ignoring the way Dean grimaced. He’d just been out fighting demons made of flame and ash, right now he’d trade all the warmth in the world for an ice bath, even though he knew he’d regret it the moment he stepped into it.

Dean allowed Cas to steer him through the corridors to their rooms, where a bath was already waiting for them. No doubt Cas had called for it the moment he’d heard the horses in the courtyard. Dean made for the nearest chair, but Cas had stopped him.

“If you sit down, you won’t get back up,” he said, without a hint of amusement, “let me help you out of this,” he murmured, starting to untie the straps that held Dean’s armour in place.

The leather slipped to the floor, landing in a quiet pile as Cas deftly unclipped and untied the fastenings. The shirt beneath it had been white once, but now it was utterly saturated in filth, blood and sweat, practically indistinguishable from Dean’s skin. Cas’ nose wrinkled a little at the sight of it and it took him a few moments to discover its seam so he could peel it off his mate.

Despite it all, Dean laughed. Cas caught his eye as the shirt passed over his face. “I never would have thought there’d be a boring way for you to take my clothes off.”

“I assure you, even like this, you’re beautiful,” Cas whispered, placing a kiss on the corner of Dean’s lips, unfazed by the soot that came away with him when he pulled back. “Let me,” he gestured, taking Dean’s arm and helping him into the bath.

The water was hot, way too hot, but the groan that escaped Dean was one of pure bliss, as the heat instantly worked its magic on his muscles as he slipped up to his neck. Immediately, he felt his eyes close, but Cas was there to cup his cheek, “Stay with me, my darling. Just a little longer and then you can sleep.”

“M’awake,” Dean insisted, though he kept his eyes closed.

He heard Cas chuckle and then there was a warm cloth wiping away at him. There was nothing for him to do but lie back, relax into the water and let Cas clean him up. He wouldn’t allow himself to sleep though, not yet, though he was halfway there already. A very small part of Dean wished they’d just gone straight to bed but the bed would surely never recover from the state of him if they had.

“Dean?” Cas called, softly and Dean jerked a little, sending a sharp splash of water which only went to show how gone he already was.

“I’m awake,” he insisted, his eyes open now from the surprise, though he regretted opening them when he saw the water in which he sat. “Oh, that’s disgusting.”

“I’m just glad it’s not your blood,” Cas said, bringing the washcloth over Dean’s face, though he seemed to be hesitating over something.

Dean waited for him to figure it out, eventually prompting, “what is it?” when he didn’t say anything.

Cas caught his bottom lip in his teeth, nervously, in a gesture that would normally have sent a frisson of heat through Dean but he was just so, so tired. “I know you don’t want me at the front,” Dean perked up instantly, his tiredness a thing of the past, even though Cas hastily continued, “so Adam and I have been thinking of ways to make ourselves useful. It’s mostly reorganising...we want to send a letter to the Captain of the Royal Guard at the Palace but I wanted to ask your permission first, I don’t want to overstep my bounds.”

For the longest of time, Dean just stared at Cas, who held his gaze with increasing discomfort before Dean finally breathed out, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I...I love you too,” Cas frowned, “But I don’t see what-”

His words were lost as Dean leaned in and kissed him, hard, drawing him close, hardly caring that he was soaking Cas’ shirt by leaning against him. Cas pulled back, searching Dean’s face, trying to understand, but Dean was just beaming at him, he could feel his smile starting to hurt his face. What a miracle his mate was. As an angelic soldier, he could have insisted he make his way to the front, he could have demanded he accompany Dean and even though he wasn’t technically a warrior of Heaven anymore, what really could Dean have done to stop him? Instead, he had accepted it and looked for other ways to make himself useful. Dean knew Cas loved him, he could feel it every moment of the day, but sometimes he could really show it.

“Send your letter, Cas.”

“Don’t you want to read it?”

“I trust you. Whatever you think is best, I’ll go with it.”

Cas' eyes lit up, brighter than their usual bright blue as he leaned in and kissed Dean again. Dean let his arms snake up Cas’ back, drawing him in, moving his lips to Cas’ jaw, his neck, nipping at his collarbone just because it was there before him and so enticing.

“Dean,” Cas sighed, “You need to rest.”

“I’m resting,” Dean insisted, his mouth passing over Cas’ shoulder. He didn’t feel so tired anymore.

“Dean,” Cas said, firmly, pulling away, so he could reach the towels.

“Fine,” Dean sighed, unwilling to keep the pout from his voice and he had no regrets from the way it made Cas laugh. Instead, he let Cas pull him from the water and wrap him in a warm robe, patting him dry. Dean had resented the necessity for a bath, but he couldn’t deny how pleased he was to see his own skin again.

Cas had paused, somewhere by Dean’s knee, frowning. “You have a cut here,” he said, softly, running his hand over it, allowing it to heal even as he pointed it out. “It’s gone now.”

Dean smiled, softly at his mate, “Thank you. Now, come on, you’re tired too.”

Cas looked as though he might protest, his eyes glancing to the door as though he’d suddenly thought of something that needed his attention. “Sam-” he started.

“Sam’s a big boy, he can look after himself,” Dean said, pulling Cas towards the bed. “Besides, someone told me I need to rest and I can only do that if you’re with me.”

“That’s not true,” Cas snorted, even as Dean pulled him down onto the cushions, wrapping them up in the covers. Cas aided the effort with his wings, tucking them around Dean in the way Dean loved the most. It was like a cocoon of warmth, the softness of Cas’ feathers more comfortable than any pillow the kingdom could have offered. Dean settled against Cas’ chest, his arms securely around his waist. “I don’t like sleeping without you,” Dean insisted.

The steady rise and fall of Cas’ breathing lulled him into an easy sleep almost instantly. The screams and horrors of the battlefield were forgotten as Dean lay across his mate, secure in his arms and wings, breathing him in as he peppered soft kisses atop his head. He couldn’t have been sure whether he dreamed it or not, but he could have sworn he heard Cas say, “My love, you’ll never have to sleep without me.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was something of an irony that when the soldiers had returned to the fortress it seemed quieter for it. But then, they were as exhausted as their leaders and were only interested in falling into their beds or dragging themselves to the infirmary, where they promptly fell asleep under the doctor’s ministrations. It saved on sedatives at any rate. There were men on watch, of course, but they seemed to be conducting themselves as quietly as humanly possible, stepping lightly on their rounds, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Castiel had expected to fall asleep as soon as Dean had come back. But even wrapped in his mate’s arms, cradling him in dark wings, Castiel had not drifted. Somehow, he felt more awake than he had in days even though Dean was warm against him, his gentle breathing even and hypnotic. But something was niggling at him, an itch he could not scratch, something incessant that he could not ignore, however inviting sleep might be.

Disentangling himself from Dean was relatively easy, though leaving him was somewhat harder. For a long time, Castiel couldn’t help but look at him, tracing the edge of his jawline with gentle fingers, occasionally pressing a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his eyes...just one more. Always one more. What Gods had smiled upon him to have granted him a union with such a mate?

He must have been sitting awkwardly or misjudged the angle at which he rose, for as soon as Castiel straightened and took his first step away from the bed, he swayed, momentarily unbalanced though he couldn’t say why. He paused, considering himself, but he felt fine and his wings were not out of alignment. There was no harm done so he shook it off and slipped from the room, only a little surprised to find Adam still up.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, startling the boy who almost scratched a black line through the words he’d been writing as his hand jerked from the fright. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Adam laid the quill down and smiled. “I thought you would have gone to bed.”

“I thought you would have too,” Castiel said evenly, wondering if it would sound too patronising to remind the boy that he needed his rest. By human standards, he had yet to finish his growth and sleep was apparently an essential component of such a thing.

Adam waved a hand over the papers, “Sam said he was going to stay up and write some reports so I thought I’d do it for him.”

Castiel couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Is he asleep now?”

“I doubt it,” Adam grumbled, “He’s probably found something else to do.”

“Has he always had an aversion for resting?”

“No, but he feels like he shouldn’t rest when there’s something to do and,” Adam waved his hand around in a gesture several years older than himself, “there’s always something that needs doing here.”

Castiel’s eyes fell on the door that led to Sam’s chambers. That had been the problem, the itch he could not scratch, the knowledge gnawing at him that Sam had drawn away from Castiel’s offer of healing, that he was as stubborn as his brother but at least his brother would relent in the presence of good sense. Sam seemed determined to work himself into the early grave the demons would be happy to provide for him.

“I’ll go and see if he’s alright,” he murmured, more to affirm the idea in his head than to announce it to Adam.

“Your funeral,” Adam mumbled, turning his attention back to the paper, but he didn’t offer anything more. “Oh,” he called, suddenly, as Castiel started for the door, “Did...Did you ask Dean about our plan?”

Castiel couldn’t help but grin at the boy, “I did. You may send the letter.”

Adam’s smile was infectious, he looked as though Castiel had offered him the keys to the gates of Heaven, “Really? He doesn't want to check-”

“Your work is more than satisfactory, Adam, your brothers trust you.”

In truth, Castiel had not mentioned Adam’s contributions to Dean, but that was only because he had not prepared for Dean to agree so readily and easily before he had the chance to. Not that Dean would argue against praising his brother. And Adam looked so proud of himself, Castiel allowed himself the smallest of falsehoods. Dean trusted Castiel and Adam had helped, therefore Dean trusted Adam, whether he had voiced it or not.

“I’ll send it right away,” Adam grinned, but then it faltered when he saw Castiel’s hand resting on the doorknob, “Good luck,” he offered, grabbing a sheaf of paper and practically running into the halls with it.

Castiel watched him go, fondly, before he turned his attention back to the other Winchester brother. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was he could offer and he was in no way close enough to Sam to presume to tell him what to do, but still...there was something not quite right and if Castiel could help at all, he would. Or at least he’d try to. The worst that could come of it would be Sam being even more annoyed at him than he already seemed to be.

He hesitated on the threshold of Sam’s main chamber, noticing in the dim lights of the hallway that there was more light than he’d expect from a sleeping man seeping under the door. He sighed and rapped the door, gently.

He heard the distinct sound of shuffling from the other side and he sighed again. Sam was not asleep then. “Sam?” he called, quietly, tapping the door again. The sound of a glass shattering, as though dropped in haste, gave Castiel pause and this time he rapped the door a little harder. “Sam, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Sam’s voice came, muffled through the door but still hard. Unyielding. _Wrong_. “Just...leave me alone, Cas, I’m fine.”

The door was locked Castiel realised before he’d even noticed he’d tried to enter. He had no right, the vague thought formed and would not be easily dismissed. He was not Sam’s keeper and Dean himself had said he was probably tired. But...there was something wrong. Castiel had seen it from the start and he was not going to walk away from it again. Dean loved his brothers, both of them, but Sam was his world and for his sake alone, Castiel would help him, even if Sam protested.

The door yielded easily when Castiel decided that he was going to enter. He practically crushed the handle in his hand and gave it a sharp shove with his shoulder, it was enough for the door to submit and it fell open. Sam heard it open, Castiel heard him curse, and then there was a whirlwind of movement as Sam tried to hide whatever it was he’d been hiding since before Dean and Castiel had arrived.

“Oh...Sam,” Castiel said, softly, when Sam realised that it was too late, turning frightened eyes towards the angel. “Sam, what have you done?”

* * *

For a long time, Castiel stood in the doorway looking at his brother in law. He wore no expression, but he imagined Sam could see his mind working behind his eyes. Sam hadn’t moved either, frozen in place, waiting to see what Castiel would do.

Eventually, Castiel sighed and whispered, “Wait here.”

He found a guard easily enough, though Sam had done a good job of isolating his chambers from the rest of the palace’s workings. The man stood to attention as Castiel approached, more as a reaction to the natural authority he exuded than because he’d been invested with any specific powers.

“Excuse me, would you mind doing something for me?” he asked, quietly, even though there was little chance of disturbing anyone. The guard arched an eyebrow, it wasn’t like he was in a position to refuse, but Castiel wanted to be polite. “Would you go to my chambers and when His Highness wakes up, tell him that his brother has been taken ill and I’ll see him at breakfast when Sam is comfortable.”

The guard looked momentarily concerned, “Is His Highness alright, sir?”

Castiel smiled, reassuringly, “He’ll be fine. Overworked, I think.”

The guard scoffed lightly, not surprised in the slightest and gave a quick salute. “Of course, sir. I’ll go now.”

Castiel waited until he was out of sight before he returned to Sam, closing the door carefully behind him, locking it for good measure. Sam hadn’t moved, still frozen in the exact position that Castiel had disturbed him in. He did not know Sam well, certainly not well enough to accurately read his face, but he thought he looked frightened. He was probably wondering what on earth Castiel was going to do now. He clearly didn’t know what to do when Castiel stepped forward and started picking up shards of broken glass from the floor.

“You’ll hurt yourself,” Castiel sighed, softly, and that was enough to apparently bring Sam back to reality.

“You’re...you’re not angry?” he asked, his voice a little shakier than Castiel had ever heard it.

Castiel fixed him with a stare that showed that yes, on some level he was angry, but that was nothing compared to the worry within him. “Sit down, Sam,” he said, gently, “We need to talk about this.”

Blood looked like blood, whether it had come from a human, an angel or a demon. It occurred to Castiel that if Dean had discovered it, he would have been confused, shocked for sure, to say the least, to find his brother drinking blood as he would wine, but he would not have seen anything beyond that. Until that moment, Castiel had not known he could recognise demon blood by sight alone, but there was no doubt in his mind. The floor was stained with it where Sam had dropped the glass he had been drinking from; that he had been drinking from it was certain from the smears it had left around his lips. There were bottles of it lined up across a table and even though it looked like blood, Castiel could hear the souls of the damned screaming through it.

Dropping into a chair that looked as though it had been brought from the Winchester palace, Sam kept his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to bring himself to look at Castiel. Castiel didn’t mind it, but he did settle himself cross-legged on the floor in front of him, only slightly beyond Sam’s vision and ducked down in an attempt to catch his eye. “Sam?”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“ _Sam?_ ”

There was a short silence before Sam finally snapped, “What do you want me to say?”

“You’re drinking demon blood, Sam? Why?”

But Sam still didn’t want to answer.

“Would you like me to fetch Dean?” Castiel offered when he realised that Sam wasn’t going to open up to him, but at that Sam jerked in his chair so hard Castiel might as well have struck him.

“ _No!”_ he shouted and so Castiel held his gaze. “No...don't...don’t tell Dean.”

In the back of his mind, Castiel knew that he would eventually have to tell Dean. The prospect of keeping a secret from his mate was as appealing as ripping his own wings off. But, that was an argument for the future, right now Sam needed the reassurance and Castiel was prepared to give it.

“I just want to help,” Castiel assured him, “You’re not well.”

“I know,” Sam mumbled. He rocked forward so that his head rested in his palms. He looked like he wanted to hide, even though Castiel could see him plainly. It must have helped for at last he started talking.

“It helps, okay? You’ve seen what it’s like here. It’s constant and there’s only me...I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand but...it helps.”

It was clear that was all he intended to say.

“How?” Castiel asked.

“Look, I know-”

“No, Sam,” Castiel said, holding his hands up before Sam could launch into whatever justifications he’d thought of. “How does it help? What is it doing that is helpful? What is it you need that it is giving you?”

“Oh...Look, Cas, you’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Only Dean called him Cas, it was momentarily startling to hear it from someone else. “Sam,” Castiel started, his head cocked to the side regarding him, “At any point did you think drinking demon blood would be a good idea? You’ve hidden it well from everyone and you don’t want me to tell Dean, so I’m assuming you knew he wouldn’t take it well...Is there anything I could possibly say to you that you haven’t already thought of?”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed several times but he couldn’t find the words. Thinking better of it he muttered, “I can...I can do stuff...It helps me stay awake, I’m stronger for it, sometimes I can kill them just by thinking about it. It makes me _better_ , Cas!”

Castiel looked up at him, trying and failing to ignore the heavy ring of black in Sam’s eyes. It was clear that Sam believed what he was saying.

“When was the last time you ate?” Castiel asked, casting around in his mind, but he couldn’t recall Sam sitting with Dean to dine. “Or slept?”

Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, Sam dropped his gaze to the floor again. “I don’t. I mean...I haven’t...not...not since I started taking it.”

“And how do you obtain it?”

Another hesitation, but whatever it was he was about to admit could hardly compound his crimes. “I have an arrangement with a demon.”

Sam had guessed wrong, Castiel’s eyes practically glowed with fury, his wings flicking out behind him as though the shock had needed physical release. “You made an arrangement with a demon?!”

“If it helps me fight them then yeah, I’d do it again,” Sam shouted back. Castiel’s eyes narrowed and Sam seemed to shrink a little under his stare. “It makes me strong,” he said again, but this time he sounded uncertain. His voice shook a little.

Castiel covered one of his hands with his own. “Sam. It’s killing you.” Sam barely flinched, as though he knew it to be true. “Even Dean has noticed you’re not yourself and you haven’t been for a long time-” a thought struck him and he lowered his voice. “When you came home for the taming...were you taking it then?”

Mutely, Sam nodded.

“You’re not just taking it before the battles are you?”

Sam shook his head and Castiel squeezed the hand he was holding, wanting to reassure him. At length, Sam took a breath and looking Castiel square in the eyes he said, quietly, “It hurts, Cas. It hurts when I don’t take it.”

He looked away quickly, though not before Castiel could see the shame in his eyes.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he said, firmly, “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you through this and you’re going to lead your men without needing this... _filth_.” His lip curled in distaste as his eyes looked back at the bottles. They made him uncomfortable by their mere presence.

“I don’t...I don’t know how,” Sam whispered, but Castiel’s grip on his hand was firm. Relentless.

“That’s why you have family around you to help. Will you let me help you?”

Sam chewed at his bottom lip, before he nodded, his cheeks flushed with shame, embarrassment and something that was probably fear but Castiel couldn’t quite read him.

“Alright.” Cas sighed, relieved. “First, we’re going to get rid of these.”

He dropped Sam’s hand and walked over to the table. Without giving Sam a moment to protest, he threw the first bottle into the fire, watching the flames spark even though the bottle shattered and spilt liquid into them. He followed it with the next, and the next after that, until all the bottles were gone. The room smelled of demons and Sam looked ashen in the firelight, aware that his crutch had been taken from him. But they had made a start, Castiel thought, as the screams only he could hear from the fireplace grew mercifully quieter.

* * *

Dean woke to find that Cas was not in his arms where he’d left him and there was an unfamiliar guard on the door. The man had barely finished saying that Sam had fallen ill before Dean was already running across the fortress, looking for his brother and wondering why his mate hadn’t seen fit to wake him in such an emergency.

He didn’t recognise the guard outside the door that led to Sam’s chambers either, but the man had the audacity to stop Dean before he could go through.

“I’m sorry Your Highness, but your husband has asked that no one enter, even you.”

The flush of pleasure that warmed Dean from the core whenever he heard anyone refer to Cas as his husband was not enough to stop the fury from rising within him and he was on the very edge of doing something he would very much regret when the door opened from the other side and Cas stepped forward to hold him.

“Sam-” Dean began, his relief to see his mate hardly touching the concern for his brother.

“Sam is...unwell.”

Dean looked at him, _really_ looked. He saw the tiredness behind his eyes, the way his hair stuck up as though he’d run his fingers through it several times from frustration or worry, the way his wings seemed just a little closer to the ground, drooping a little as though they could sense their angel’s mood.

“Cas?” he asked, for that was all he needed to say. He knew Cas would understand and read the several questions behind it.

Cas cupped his face gently, though the motion seemed to be more for his benefit than Dean’s. “Sam is ill, but I’m confident he will recover. But...he does not wish you to see him in this state.”

“What?” Dean scoffed. “That’s ridiculous, he’s my brother, I’ve nursed him through everything from a broken arm to the pox, what the hell does he think I’m going to do? Faint at the sight of blood?” He hesitated, “Is there blood, Cas?”

Cas stroked the pad of his thumb in circles against Dean’s cheek. “Dean, he will be alright, but please...let me help him and when he’s ready he will explain everything.”

His tone was even, but his enigmatic words caught Dean’s attention. Something that felt rather like dread settled in his stomach, heavy and cold.

“Is he…?” he trailed off, unwilling to even voice the prospect, but Cas took his face in both his hands and forced him to look into his eyes.

“Your brother is not dying, Dean,” Cas said, with such ferocity Dean believed him. “I will stay with him, but please, I ask we not be disturbed, he...he doesn’t want anyone to see.”

Cas’ eyes darted back towards the door, as though he were worried Sam might appear in that moment in whatever state he was in.

“Okay, okay, Cas,” Dean said, leaning forward to leave a small kiss on his mate’s forehead. “Shall I send for the doctor?”

Cas shook his head, which somehow did little to reassure Dean. “No, I’ll be here, I shall be enough,” he said and Dean knew he meant it to be comforting. But Cas was not a healer and illnesses did not need to be ‘explained’.

Dean wasn’t sure what Sam had done but he already knew enough to know he didn’t like it.

“I’ll come to you soon,” Cas assured him, pulling Dean into a tight embrace, committing the feel of his arms wrapped around him to memory.

“Alright, Cas,” Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, his mind already turning to the sheer amount of things he would have to do if Sam was out of commission. It was a decent distraction from worrying about his brother and why his mate was so obviously trying to keep him in the dark over something. “Alright,” he said again. “I’ll...I’ll see you soon.”

Cas nodded and turned to the door.

“I love you, Dean,” he said, suddenly, looking back just before his hand closed around the door handle. “I pray this won’t take long.”

Eight days.

It was eight days before Dean saw Castiel again and Gods how he missed him. They had not been parted before and it seemed strange to be parted now, especially as Cas had only come with him to this Godforsaken place in the first place to prevent them from being separated. And it wasn’t as though they were particularly distant. Only one hallway and a handful of heavy doors came between them, but it was enough. Cas had asked that no one enter, closed the door and that had been that.

Or at least it should have been, but then...there were the screams. Even through several locked doors, Dean could hear them. As could everyone else. He recognised them as Sam and when he’d first heard them on the second day of his and Cas’ self-imposed quarantine he'd had to stop himself from breaking the door down. Dean would know his brother anywhere and Sam was screaming loud enough it was a wonder the demons had not assumed it another summons to battle. Dean and Adam had hovered beyond the door, but the guard, pale-faced and terrified had assured them Cas had said it would be okay. He didn’t look convinced. Sometimes Dean wondered what the man would do if he just outright ordered him to open the door, but Cas had said Sam would be okay and...he trusted Cas.

If something went wrong or if something changed then Cas would summon them, though for the life of him Dean couldn’t imagine what pain Sam was in that could be causing him to yell out so.

The shouting only lasted for a few days and Dean, who had never thought he would be glad to go into battle, was glad that he missed most of it when the bells rang. The attacks were less frequent now, coming in waves that were further apart, if only barely. It was enough of a reprieve to rest a little between the fights, as much as he could rest anyway, lying in a bed without his mate beside him and his brother several feet away calling out for relief.

On the eighth day, they emerged.

Dean was reading over some report on wall density when he realised he was no longer alone. He was on his feet and running to take Cas into his arms before he knew it. And Cas went willingly, easily, all but falling forward into the embrace, his wings coming around them instinctively, hiding them from the world even though it was only Sam, Adam and a handful of their more competent commanders.

“Cas,” Dean murmured, letting Cas shower him with kisses.

“I missed you,” he breathed, kissing Dean as though Dean were the air he needed to live. “I missed you so much.”

Dean pulled him in, resting their foreheads against each other, breathing him in. “Cas-” he said again, but he couldn’t quite put into words everything that he wanted to say. Cas seemed to understand, kissing him again.

“ _Oh, Dean.”_

Dean drew back long enough so he could look at his mate. He noted the paleness of his skin, even though he wasn’t sure angels could ever pale. He hadn’t known it of his mother. Cas looked sick, but such a thing was impossible. Maybe it was just because it had been so long, eight days sounded so short but it had felt so long, but Cas seemed different, wearied. But then, they’d all heard the screams, he’d apparently done more than his duty in nursing Sam through whatever it was.

Beside them, Sam cleared his throat and Dean turned to him, having almost completely forgotten he was there.

“Sam? You look...” Dean trailed off, taking in the sight of his brother who looked...well? More than well, he looked better than Dean could remember him looking for a long time. The manic glint was gone from his eyes, his skin seemed to have recovered its colour and he seemed...lighter. As though a weight had been lifted. “You look...”

“I know,” Sam said, allowing Dean to pull him into an embrace, “Castiel did a wonderful job. He really looked after me.” Sam’s hand rested on Cas’ shoulder for a moment, but as happy as Dean was to be reunited with them, he didn’t give them much time before going straight to the heart of the matter.

“So, what happened?”

Sam and Cas exchanged a look, one in which Dean saw fear from his brother and reassurance from his mate. “Well, one of you tell me,” he ground out, unable to keep the frustration from his voice.

Sam opened his mouth, but Cas cut him off. “Sam will tell you,” he said, more to Sam than anyone else, “But, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to rest.”

Vaguely, Dean was aware that another alarm bell was ringing, angels generally didn’t _need_ to rest but then again, who knew what he had faced in nursing Sam. It hadn’t sounded pretty. A lie down was probably not much to ask. Dean nodded, letting him go, though not before pulling him in for one more kiss. Longer this time, gentle, a promise of more to come.

He watched Cas go, noting the slight sway to his steps and filed it away to talk about later. “So?” he asked Sam, pointedly.

Dean saw him swallow, nervously but he didn’t say anything. He dismissed the others, the guards, Dean could even see him weighing up whether or not to send Adam away, before deciding to let him stay.

“Alright,” Sam breathed, steeling himself. “You know I’ve been...ill-” If Dean hadn’t known his ‘illness’ had been a cover for something before now his tone would have given it away for sure. “That’s not strictly true.”

“We figured,” Dean grumbled because even Adam had worked that much out. “Just...tell us what happened.”

“Okay...” Sam started, “But...try not to freak out.”

Folding his arms, Dean fixed him with what he hoped was his most glaring glare. “You’re not filling me with confidence right now.”

Sam took a breath and told them.

He told them everything.

To his credit, Dean at least _tried_ not to freak out.

* * *

It was some time before Dean found his way back to his chambers. It had been two days since the last battle and yet he felt as exhausted as if he’d just been pulled from the field.

Cas was lying on their bed, propped up on every pillow they had to hand and was asleep? No, not asleep, just resting with his eyes closed. His hands were folded together against his abdomen, two fingers joined and pointing upwards as though in casual prayer. Dean had missed this, missed just having him close.

“He told you?” Cas asked, quietly, his eyes still closed.

“He told me,” Dean mumbled, lying down beside him.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I didn’t want to keep it from you.”

Dean turned on his side so that he was facing Cas, “Cas? You don’t think...You don’t think I’m angry _with you_ , do you?”

Cas opened his eyes but before he said anything Dean could see the sadness behind them. “You would have every right to be, I-”

Dean caught Cas’ hands in his own, “You might have saved his life, _of course_ , I’m not angry with you.” Dean hesitated. He wasn’t that great at expressing feelings, though declaring his love for Cas had become commonplace, still, he’d hoped that the love that had welled within him when he’d realised everything that Cas had done for Sam was intense enough that Cas knew it.

“Hm,” Cas sighed, happily, “And...did you kill your brother?”

Dean’s face fell, “Not quite. I came close a few times though.”

“I know the feeling,” Cas said, with grim amusement.

Leaning in, Dean covered Cas’ face with kisses. “I love you, Cas, thank you for looking after him.”

“It was mostly a matter of restraining him,” Cas said, dryly, which nonetheless made Dean’s heart constrict. He should have been there for his brother. The fact that Sam had chosen to shut him out would probably sting for longer than the fact that he’d turned to demon blood.

Demon blood.

Of all the idiotic, ridiculous-

“Dean,” Cas said, softly, calling him back. “He’ll be alright now and...as much as we may not approve, he was only doing it in an attempt to maintain things here-”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Dean snapped, harsher than he’d intended, but it had been gnawing at him since Sam had revealed the truth. “All this time he’s been down here while I’ve been swanning around the palace while he...he-” he broke off, something that felt too much like bile rising within him, “I should have-”

“Dean,” Cas said again, firmer this time. “This is not your fault.”

Dean stared at him, his eyes vacant. Cas could say what he wanted, but it would be a long time before he forgave himself for this. If he ever did.

“My brother resorted to drinking demon blood because I wasn’t here to help, because I-”

“Because _he_ was overwhelmed because _he_ didn’t know where to turn. Not you.” Cas hesitated, “I’m...not going to convince you of this am I?”

Dean wanted to say yes, more than anything he wanted to say yes.

“No.”

Cas sighed, but he didn’t pull away, instead, he shifted closer, bringing his wings around them the way he always did to hide them from the world. When there was only each other. Dean had never told him how much he loved lying in his wings.

“Then we won’t fight about it.”

He might have said something else but it was lost as he fell asleep against Dean’s shoulder. Dean froze beneath him, he’d thought something might be wrong with Cas who seemed unsteady on his feet, paler than he should have been and now sleeping when angels were known for not specifically requiring it however much they might indulge. He was probably just tired, Dean reasoned. He’d spent more than a week locked in a room with a man more demon than brother, he was bound to be tired.

The thought struck him, an unpleasant shadow of a thought that lingered in his gut long after he regretted having it. He might forgive Sam for the demon blood eventually, not tonight, it was still too raw, but eventually...Maybe. But...if there was something wrong with Cas because of this whole thing then his relationship with Sam might never recover.


	5. Chapter 5

Out of the corner of his eye Castiel could feel Dean looking at him. With an eye roll that seemed to move through his entire body, he inwardly prayed for patience and ground out, “Dean. I’m fine.”

Dean arched an eyebrow, in no way convinced.

With a small huff of annoyance Castiel turned his attention back to the papers he had been consulting with Adam, deliberately ignoring his mate, even though he could still feel Dean’s eyes upon him. Beside him, Adam looked awkwardly between them before deciding to just stay quiet. Across the table Sam gave him a reassuring albeit a furtive smile, but Castiel ignored that too.

He was fine.

He was...mostly fine.

As an angel it should not have been a consideration. His default state was ‘ _fine_ ’. Angels did not get sick, not that he _was_ sick...though it wasn't as if he had any frame of reference for such a thing. His equilibrium was damaged...somehow. He found himself unsteady on his feet at times, hungry too and not just as a passing fancy, he actually wanted to eat, but only certain foods and cooked in a particular way. Angelic taste-buds weren’t as complex as those of a human, but even so, Castiel could not remember ever desiring apples. Specifically, baked apples sprinkled with sugar, _not_ cinnamon which had apparently caused the palace cook no end of confusion. And he was sleeping. Not just because he could or because he liked to, he found himself taking naps in the middle of the day, something he could only appreciate when Dean shook him awake, looking down at him with undisguised worry.

Sam on the other hand seemed to be going from strength to strength. The colour had returned to his skin and the manic glint in his eyes had been replaced with a warmth befitting of Dean’s brother. Somehow, Dean had gotten the unreasonable idea that the negative side effects of Sam’s addiction had passed to Castiel, but such a thing was ludicrous. It was far more likely to be the long-term effects of the constant demonic warfare. He was still exhausted from the frequent attacks and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a breath of air that wasn’t tainted with sulphur.

Granted, he couldn’t remember an angel ever suffering like this before, but then the front was very different in Purgatory than here. And the angels may have fought in worse conditions than this but they could retreat into Heaven without difficulty. There was probably a reasonable explanation.

“Cas-” Dean started, even though Castiel had done nothing more than turn the page in his hand.

“Dean, _I’m fine_ ,” Castiel snapped, before he could ask, again. He felt a little guilty when a flicker of hurt crossed Dean’s features, but he had not known until now how persistent humans could be.

“Actually, I was going to ask if you could pass the ledger, that one by your elbow...Never mind,” he sighed, “I’m gonna...go check on the horses.”

Dean slipped out of the chair and was gone before any one of them could call him back. Adam and Sam exchanged a look before looking at Castiel. “I’m...I’m going to see if he’s okay,” he sighed.

“You know..." Sam started, "he is right though, you look really pale-” Castiel silenced him with a glare before he could finish his sentence. As he rose, he took particular care not to sway, even though the rush to his head was immediate and he had to flush out his wings to maintain his balance.

He had followed Dean out almost immediately, yet by the time he reached the stables, Dean was already grooming one of the horses. Not his own, but the one he favoured when they went into battle. He did not look up when Castiel slipped into the paddock beside him.

“Dean, I-”

“You don’t have to say it, Cas.”

“We both know I do,” Castiel said, moving closer even though Dean had not turned to him at all. “I am sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to snap and I know you’re only worried about me, even though there isn’t anything to be worried about.”

“Hm,” Dean muttered, noncommittally, still more interested in brushing the horse than looking at Castiel. At least until Castiel stepped forward and covered Dean’s hand in his own, stilling it.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean met his eyes and though he looked a little sad, he still could not help but smile in the face of his mate. “I know. I’m sorry too. I can’t promise I won’t keep worrying though.”

Castiel gave a small huff, but he wasn’t nearly as frustrated as he made himself found. “Would you like me to consult a healer?” he asked, eventually, hating the way Dean’s brow seemed constantly etched with concern.

It was worth it alone for the relief that spread through him. “Yes,” Dean breathed, cupping Castiel’s face, the horse forgotten behind them, “ _Please_. I wanted to summon one myself, but you were so adamant it’s nothing.”

“And it is nothing,” Castiel assured him, “But if it will put your mind at ease, I will summon one today.”

“Thank you,” Dean beamed, leaning in to kiss him and breaking off when the horse gave a frustrated whinny behind them. “Alright,” he laughed, turning back to her, “Alright, forgive me.” He reached up and started brushing down the horse again, she shook her head with a snort of satisfaction.

Castiel laughed, “You certainly have a way with her.”

“Because I feed her the good stuff, don’t I, Baby?” Dean said, fondly, scratching her behind the ear.

Castiel watched him working, feeling a little guilty that he allowed this to go on so long. It was nothing, of that he was sure, but he shouldn’t have dismissed Dean the way he had. He was only worried for the love of his life. Castiel would worry too if the situation was reversed. When Dean was done pampering the horse he turned to Castiel, his hand held out and Castiel reached for it without hesitation.

They secured the paddock and turned to leave when Castiel paused, pulling Dean into half an embrace.

“We should get back,” Dean muttered.

Castiel let his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, “Just a few minutes more? It’s nice to see you without a regiment roll call in front of you.”

Dean’s smile was wicked, it lasted half a second but Castiel still saw it before Dean took half a step forward, backing Castiel against a wall. Castiel went willingly. He brought his wings around them, shielding them from view even though not even the horses could see them here.

Dean brushed his fingers across Castiel’s cheek and Castiel leaned into the touch. It was a testament to how long it had been since they had been able to indulge in something that wasn’t hurried or rushed that he shuddered from so simple a gesture. He couldn’t miss the way Dean’s eyes momentarily darkened and he leaned in closer, pressing the lengths of their body together, supported only by the wall at his back.

Dean's voice dropped dangerously low, “We haven’t had enough time together have we?”

Dean was always the first to say that he loved Castiel’s voice and at first Castiel hadn’t understood it. But then Dean would speak, low and hushed, right beside his ear as his lips ghosted over his neck and Castiel found he understood quite well after all.

“ _Dean_ -” he breathed, but he hadn’t actually thought of anything more to say.

Dean’s lips were hot against his neck as he deftly nudged Castiel’s legs apart with his own so that they could rock their hips against each other.

“I miss our bed back home,” Dean murmured, one hand trailing down the front of Castiel’s shirt. When his fingers hitched it up, allowing him access to just a hint of Castiel’s hips, Castiel couldn’t help but moan softly at the contact, desperate for something that didn’t scream an apology for being too tired. Too rushed.

Dean caught the moan as it fell from him, devouring it with a soft groan of his own. Their touches were desperate, clinging to each other for all they were worth. Castiel had surely never been so hard and when Dean reached between them, loosing the ties that bound him, he couldn’t stop himself from crying out at the touch. Tame though it was.

“You feel so good, Cas,” Dean whispered against his lips, taking himself out so he could stroke them together.

It was far too hurried, pleasure lighting up across every one of Castiel’s nerves at record speed, but in that moment it was everything. Castiel rocked his hips in time with Dean’s movements, knowing that neither of them would last long, it had been far too long since they’d been able to take each other apart.

Dean’s touch burned where it touched, his lips scorching Castiel from the inside out, as Castiel reached up, threading his fingers through Dean’s hair almost harshly as Dean quickened his pace. They hardly had any time but Dean seemed determined to wring every sound Castiel was capable of making from him.

Still, it was Dean who came first. Castiel’s name on his lips, whispered again and again as he tumbled headlong into the welcoming arms of bliss. Castiel could not hold out against such a sound, nor did he want to, painting Dean’s hand white with his own release, pulling Dean against him, unsure which of them was trembling.

Probably both.

Castiel’s fingers were still in Dean’s hair, stroking gently as they came back to each other. He could feel his legs shaking beneath him, his wings practically vibrating around them as Dean let out something that might have been a laugh if he’d had the wherewithal to do so.

“Can we not just go home already, I feel like I haven’t kissed you for months.”

“You just did more than kiss me,” Castiel chuckled, his voice a little raw as he trailed kisses across Dean’s jaw.

“I haven’t kissed you properly,” Dean said, a little sadly given what had just taken place, “I just want to take you to a bedroom and lock the door until neither of us can remember our names.”

“That does sound heavenly,” Castiel agreed and he opened his mouth to speak again but he paused, hearing something in the distance.

“ _Dean? Cas? Are you out here? Dean?!_ ”

Sam’s voice carried across the courtyard and Dean let out a frustrated groan, dropping his face to Castiel’s shoulder. “Really? _Really?!_ ”

Another kiss and Castiel couldn’t help but laugh, wiping them as clean as he could with the underside of his shirt. It wasn’t brilliant, it was barely satisfactory, but it would do.

“Dean?” Sam called again, closer and if he came upon them with Castiel’s wings still wrapped securely around them he would know what they’d been up to instantly. Not that there was any shame in it, they were married and mated after all. But...they were also against a wall...in the stables...Sam might take issue with the etiquette of the whole thing.

With a quick brush of his hands, Dean tidied them up but from the way he smirked when his eyes met Castiel’s, Castiel knew that they looked guilty. A fact that was confirmed when Sam finally found them and came to an immediate stop.

“In the stables, Dean? Really?” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as though it could alleviate the stress.

Castiel recognised Dean’s attempt to school his features into something at least akin to innocence, but Sam had known him too long and too well. He folded his arms and glared at his brother. Dean was far from chastised. Castiel wanted to kiss him again.

“Anyway, you guys should see this,” Sam called, gesturing for them to follow. He hesitated as they stepped forward, surveying them with narrowed eyes for a moment. “Okay...you’re lucky you don’t need to change.”

Dean grinned as he took Castiel’s hand, following Sam out across the courtyard. If they hadn’t known something was going on they would have noticed as soon as they left the stables. A crowd had gathered at one of the ramparts, looking out across the plains behind the fortress. Castiel felt Dean’s hand tighten around his, but Castiel was already looking up to the sky. It was clear, or at least, as clear as it ever got; whatever was happening, it wasn’t the demons. Besides, if they’d managed to get to the rear of the fortress they wouldn’t waste their time coming back for it, they’d press on laying waste to whatever they could find beyond it.

They found Adam beside one of the parapets, gesturing for his brothers and Castiel to join him at the space he’d kept clear.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked before Castiel could voice the same question.

“You won’t believe it,” Sam said, pointing into the distance where Castiel could see, unmistakably, the shape of an army moving towards them. It could not have been anything else, regimented rows of dark figures moving as one across the scorched earth. At first, Castiel felt his chest tighten and instinctively one of his wings wrapped around Dean, preempting the need to protect him. But, Dean was laughing and if Castiel looked closely, he could see the standards being carried at various points in the strict formation.

“Is that-”

“The Kingsguard,” Sam confirmed for him before he could finish the question. “And it looks like Dad came with them.”

“What the hell is the Kingsguard doing here?!” Dean snapped, his voice a little higher in something Castiel recognised as something a little beyond excitement.

Sam only shrugged, but Adam caught Castiel’s eye and gave him a wry smile. “I think they got our letter.”

* * *

King John was furious. Dean could see it the moment he recognised his father at the head of the columns. He could see it in the way he held his shoulders, the way his fingers were tense around his horse’s reigns, the way he sat ramrod straight even under several layers of royal drapery. Dean knew his father, he knew what different shades of annoyance looked like on him and this was pure, seething fury. This wasn’t some withheld outburst at someone who might have slipped out of formation, this was long held and calculated.

In a way, Dean was impressed. It was hardly a short journey from the palace to the front lines, he hadn’t followed up on what exactly Cas and Adam had written, events had sort of overtaken them, but he had a vague memory of Cas asking if he could send a letter...but that had been weeks ago. But not even weeks on the road had been enough to quell the king's ire. The prospect of coming face to face with an irate John Winchester was never one Dean would relish, but this time he was at least intrigued.

He followed Sam back down to the courtyard to greet their father. Cas was behind him, but Adam had slipped away. He and Sam exchanged a look, but neither called him back. If the king wanted to see his other son, he’d seek him out on his own terms. John Winchester did everything on his own terms.

The gates were opened and the king rode in, leading the considerable numbers behind him. He slid from the horse, slipping his helmet off and looking around the courtyard with open disapproval. Dean glanced over his shoulder, only those who were already on duty stood to attention. But then, Dean supposed, they’d hardly rung the bell to have the entire guard turned out.

Stepping forward, Dean was on the brink of greeting his father when the king turned away to help someone dismount.

“Oh,” he heard Sam gasp, softly behind him, “ _Mother?_ ”

Queen Mary shook her hair out as she took off her helm, as unassuming and unrecognisable as any of the soldiers behind her. The Queen had never been a warrior but she was hardly an easy target. If any demons had tried to make off with her then they would have found themselves biting off more than they could chew. And many of them had several mouths. Still, disguising her as a run of the mill soldier was a smart move. Beside her, the Captain of the Guard dismounted, like them, removing his helmet but he looked hesitantly between Dean and his father.

It was his father who broke the silence first, his tone pausing Sam as he moved forward to greet them. “I’m not usually one to stand on ceremony, but is _this_ all you could muster to welcome us?” he said. He was right though, he wasn’t usually one to stand on ceremony, but from the tightness of his features, Dean knew he was just looking for a reason to lash out.

Sam caught Dean’s eye and they conveyed a lifetime of weariness at placating their parents in one way or another, but before either of them could speak Cas stepped forward, his eyes practically burning, inviting the king to a challenge.

“The others are recovering from the skirmish that killed four of them in the early hours of this morning,” Cas ground out, his voice almost brittle. Dean had never seen him like this, it was...concerning to say the least.

He moved to take Cas’ hand. “Cas?" he said, quietly, so quietly not even Sam could hear them. "You okay?”

But the smile Cas turned on him was blinding. “Of course...” he turned to the Captain of the Guard, “If you’ll report to Commander Adam, who is probably in the barracks, he will show you the arrangements for billeting your men.”

Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed, though dimly, Dean was aware that a grin was spreading across his lips without his consent. The Queen had gone quite white, nobody ever mentioned Adam in her presence. Nobody would dare address him as ‘Commander’. The Captain of the Guard hesitated, glancing between the king and Sam, who was technically in control of these parts, even in Dean’s presence. Sam gave a nod, almost imperceptible but it was enough for the Captain to gratefully retreat and start giving orders for the men to line up.

“Would one of you care to tell me why half my guard was garrisoned to this fortress?” the king fumed, reaching into his armour and pulling out what must have been the letter Castiel and Adam sent, though Dean recognised his own seal attached to it, as he had allowed for.

The king was looking at Dean, but it was Cas who answered, his hand still in Dean’s. “I’d be happy to,” he said, casually, “Adam and I were-”

“Adam?” Dean had never heard his mother’s tone so icy before. It didn’t suit her, but then infidelity hadn’t suited his father.

Cas remained unfazed, “Yes. _Adam_. Adam and I were going through the regimental lists and discovered that we could reassign men from any garrison to the front. The numbers here are nowhere near enough to maintain a consistent defence against the demons, and there were no other units available so we invited your reserve regiment to assist.”

Over his mate’s head, Dean felt Sam’s eye on him and they exchanged a look, somewhere between shock and utter amusement.

The king was less amused. “You realise that you’ve reassigned the entire reserve regiment of the Kingsguard?”

“Of course,” Cas said, smoothly, “I’m sure you realise that if something wasn’t done then the number in your Kingsguard would be irrelevant as you’d not have a land to be king of.”

Dean was in love.

He already knew it as a fact, but it seemed a good a time as any to affirm it to himself. He was so in love.

Cas was waiting for something. Dean had never seen him fight before, not like this at any rate, but he could sense that he had _something._ He was waiting for his moment to strike. Perhaps if his father had sensed the same, he would have kept quiet.

The king looked past Dean and Cas to Sam, a hard expression on his face as he asked, “Has it gotten _that_ bad?”

But Cas didn't give Sam the chance to answer. “You know it has!” he snapped, angrier than Dean had ever seen him.

“Cas,” he put a hand on his chest to calm him, “It’s okay, Cas-”

“No, Dean, it’s not okay,” Cas insisted, looking past him to the king. “For months Sam has been writing to you of the dire situation and your only response has been to send Dean to assist, as though it’s a failing in Sam that he doesn’t have the men to mount a suitable defence. As though his leadership is in any way lacking. If you had any idea what things were like...If you had any idea what your sons were resorting to to fight this war-”

“Cas, that’s enough,” Sam called, quickly, but it wasn’t necessary.

Cas had already stopped, going suddenly limp in Dean’s arms, dropping to the ground, though Dean realised it in time to control the fall, moving with him, though no less panicked for it.

“ _Cas?!_ ” he called, cupping Cas face. Cas eyes were open but he seemed to be staring past Dean at something far beyond them, far beyond anything in this world. “Cas?” Dean breathed, tapping his face gently, relieved to the point of passing out himself when Cas’ eyes seemed to focus.

“Dean?” he asked, his voice sounding quite far away, “Why are we on the floor?”

“We should get him inside,” the Queen said, firmly, though it looked like her husband might try to argue. She was having none of it though, fixing him with a hard stare and snapping, “We should get him inside. You can argue this out later, but you know he’s right.”

Weirdly, the king didn’t seem to mind that Cas had been flaying him alive with his tongue alone just a second ago. Weirdly, he was smiling. Dean noted it and if Cas hadn’t just collapsed in his arms he would have made a point to ask about it, but Sam was under Cas’ other arm, helping him up and Dean’s entire focus was on getting his mate inside, back to their chambers.

“Is he alright?” he asked his mother, the moment Cas was on their sheets. That very morning Dean had been complaining that they didn’t spend enough time in bed together and now Cas was lying against it so heavily, he looked as though he wouldn’t rise for the rest of the day.

The Queen waved her hands, sending the king and Sam out of the room, though Dean did not miss the meaningful glance that passed between his parents.

“Mother, is he alright?” Dean asked again, hardly caring for the note of panic that had crept into his voice.

Cas looked between them, puzzled, “...I feel fine.”

The Queen did nothing in haste. She sat on the side of the bed and lay the back of her hand against Cas’ forehead, as though looking to confirm something.

Nothing was moving fast enough for Dean. If there was something wrong with his mate, with Cas, then...he didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t think about it. “Mother, I swear, if you don’t-”

“Have you been feeling dizzy? Either in spells or generally? Any nausea at all, Castiel?” his mother asked, completely ignoring her son.

“A little. I’ve been disoriented, but no nausea, how would I be nauseas?” Cas asked her.

“And, have you been eating and sleeping more? Perhaps craving certain foods?”

Cas cocked his head to one side, regarding her curiously as Dean looked up at her. “How did you know that?” he asked, but she was only smiling between them, enigmatically.

“And...” she said, drawing them in with her words, “Was your heat due these last two weeks?”

Dean frowned, “Cas’ heat wasn’t due until-” he stopped, dead, as the calculations came to him. He looked down at Cas who was staring up at him in, frozen in shock.

“I’m….no...that's not...I'm not... _am I_?” Cas started, his voice sounding as though he’d swallowed a tincture of gravel.

“You’re with child, Castiel,” the Queen said, kindly, smiling at Dean even as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “My son, you’re having a baby,” she whispered, pulling Dean into her arms, even though Cas lay between them.

For his part, Dean hadn’t moved. He was aware that his mother was moving him, she’d pulled him into a hug and let him go before she patted Cas’ cheek affectionately, but Dean hadn’t moved. His body was frozen where it sat, though he could feel nothing of it. He had no sense of sensation, there was nothing, only profound shock. Until his eyes found Cas, who looked as shocked as he felt and they both forced out a laugh at the same time.

“We’re-” Cas started, but then looked down at himself, in utter disbelief.

“I’ll go and tell your father,” Dean’s mother said to him, kissing him softly on the cheek and giving them a moment alone. Dean’s mind was racing. There was so much to do...or at least...he thought there was so much to do. They had to summon a healer, an angelic one who would know what Cas needed, they would need to alert the Host, they kept tabs on every angelic/human hybrid born either in Heaven or on Earth. Then there were the Principalities, or was it the Cherubim? One of them would have to be notified, they’d have to come down and see if Cas was carrying a nephilim. He wouldn’t be of course, nephilim hadn’t been born for centuries, but didn’t they have to be checked anyway. Tradition or something? Dean had a vague memory of someone arriving when his mother was pregnant with Sam. Had that been a Principality? A Cherubim? He couldn’t remember…

Dean took a breath, a huge gasping thing and looked down on Cas, their hands still locked together so tightly Dean wondered if they’d have to be physically prised apart.

“We’re...we’re having a baby,” Dean said, feeling no less awestruck for having said the words.

Cas looked down at his stomach where there was no sign and would not be a sign for some time, but where there was a child growing within him.

_Their child._

“We’re having a baby,” Cas repeated, a little breathlessly.

And then he was laughing and maybe crying all at the same time but Dean wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he was kissing Cas and maybe it was a little bit wet that could have been either of them. When they broke apart they were grinning so much Dean thought he might burst. One could not be this happy. It wasn’t possible.

He moved his hand to Cas’ abdomen, hovering above it for a moment, looking to Cas for permission which was immediately given. Enthusiastically given. Dean placed his hand down, feeling the cloth of Cas’ shirt beneath his hand. It didn’t feel any different but everything was different. Slowly, Dean leaned over and placed a reverent kiss beneath his hand, laying his head gently across Cas like a pillow, looking up into the endless blue eyes which seemed to sparkle all the more for the tears there, shed and unshed.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered, as though that could make it real.

It didn’t, but he didn’t care.

He was content to lie there breathing in his mate, his cheek pressed against Cas’ stomach where their family was beginning.


	6. Chapter 6

Not for the first time in a sennight, Castiel found himself waking up naturally, instead of being torn from sleep by the clanging of the bell calling the men to action. He didn’t open his eyes, not right away, instead he stretched out, first his legs, then his back, then his arms, just relishing the way the sheets felt around him, even though the wings tucked at his back were objectively softer.

As he curled back into himself, he felt warm arms come around him and he adjusted his wings so that Dean could press himself against Castiel’s back, his hand splayed across Castiel’s stomach, something he had taken to doing in his sleep. Castiel didn’t mind, in fact, he thought it was wonderful, especially as Dean had no idea he was doing it.

His mate was so perfect.

Even in sleep, Dean trailed gentle kisses across the back of Castiel’s neck, across his shoulders, across any part of him he could reach without moving. A satisfied albeit sleepy sigh escaped him as Castiel leaned back into the touch. He wasn’t about to take this for granted. The chance to just lie there, wrapped up together without any distractions to call them away.

The King and Queen wanted to indulge Castiel and so everyone was happy to obey their whims, leaving him alone to spend time with his mate. The night before, as their pleasure had crested and they had fallen against each other, their breath coming in short gasps, Dean had chuckled and murmured against Castiel’s shoulder that even the demons were giving them some time off.

They weren’t of course. The demon attacks were as frequent as they ever were, but Sam and Adam had managed to make use of the additional soldiers to actually form separate watches. Dean, it seemed, was to be left alone as though the King and Queen feared that Castiel might react badly if Dean was out of his sight for a moment. Not that Castiel was complaining. Neither was Dean, both of them quite happy to let them carry on in their ignorance. Especially if it meant they could be left alone in the mornings like this.

Castiel hadn’t noticed when it was that Dean had woken up, but sometime during his meandering thoughts Dean’s hand had moved from his stomach and now his fingers were trailing up and down Castiel’s side in soothing patterns as his kisses became more insistent at the nape of his neck.

“Cas?” Dean breathed, the ghost of his breath warm against the shell of Castiel’s ear.

“Dean,” Castiel mumbled in return, rocking his hips back, even though he still hadn’t opened his eyes.

It was all the permission Dean needed, as he turned his attention entirely to the small spot along the curve of Castiel’s neck, behind his ear, knowing that every sweep of his lips was doing things to his mate that not even the hand slipping between his thighs was capable of.

Castiel rolled his hips in lazy circles, pressing back hard when he felt the insistent length of his mate answering such a blatant invitation.

“Mornin’, Cas,” Dean breathed, his hand trailing across Castiel’s chest, smiling against skin when Castiel let out a small hiss as Dean’s fingers found a nipple, rolling his thumb over it with a smirk when Castiel bucked back against him. “Do you think you could take me again, so soon after last night?” Dean asked, practically nipping against Castiel’s ear, drawing his hand back so he could take Castiel’s ass in hand, digging his fingers in as he moved them towards Castiel’s hole.

In response, Castiel could only moan, reaching behind himself just so that he could touch Dean,  _ any _ part of Dean, even at this infuriating angle. He could feel Dean’s finger circling his hole, teasing him, just threatening to breach him, sliding through Castiel’s natural response to the sinful way his mate was taking him apart.

Castiel still hadn’t opened his eyes.

They both groaned when Dean finally pressed in, allowing Castiel’s body to do the work and take him, so easily accepting of Dean’s finger that it seemed only natural for Dean to offer another.

“Oh, _Dean_ ,” Castiel gasped out, rocking back lazily, silently begging for more, knowing that he didn’t have to.

Dean’s fingers left his ass, leaving Castiel feeling unbearably empty before he shifted his weight and then there was something far more insistent pressing against him. Dean’s hand moved across Castiel’s hips, his fingers wet from their explorations as he took Castiel in hand at the same moment he allowed himself to sink inside.

“I love you,” Dean sighed, sliding into Castiel in a single thrust that left both of them breathless. His slick hand moved along Castiel’s cock in time with the gentle roll of his hips. Castiel felt as though the grace beneath his skin was ablaze, burning him from the inside out as they rocked together. It was slow and gentle, a far cry from the passion with which they’d taken each other the night before but it still burned. A simmering wildfire between them.

Dean’s lips were at Castiel’s ear, kissing him, whispering words that Castiel could not discern, not when Dean was filling him so completely. When his hand felt so good around him.

“Come for me, angel,” Dean whispered against him, his hand squeezing the head of Castiel’s cock as he did so.

Castiel could not have denied such a request even if he’d wanted to. It was all too wonderful and he felt himself release over Dean’s hand, his body going lax as the bliss rolled through him. Dean held on a little longer, but not by much, coming deep within Castiel as his words got caught on his breath, “ _ Cas, oh Cas, Cas, Cas _ -”

A satisfied hum escaped Castiel as Dean didn’t pull out, wrapping his arm across Castiel’s chest to hold him there.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel smiled, opening his eyes at last.

Dean pressed a kiss into his hair and mumbled something that might have been a good morning, but was lost in a post-orgasmic haze.

They lay there quietly, letting their breathing slow. Castiel could feel Dean softening within him, but he didn’t want to lose the feeling, not just yet, so he pressed back for as long as he could, holding Dean in place while his mate recovered his senses.

He knew he had done so when Dean let out a thoroughly satisfied sigh and tightened his arm around Castiel. “If wanting to do  _ that _ all the time is a side effect of being pregnant, I hope you never have the baby,” he mumbled, though Castiel could hear his grin. Without much feeling behind it, Castiel elbowed Dean in the ribs, smiling at his mate’s chuckle. They both knew it had less to do with the baby and more to do with the fact that they actually had time together to do  _ that _ .

“I’m joking,” Dean said, softly, “I can’t wait to meet the little one.”

It wasn’t a particularly outlandish thing to say, but it gave Castiel pause. When he spoke, his voice was careful, as though he could hide the sudden panic that gripped him. “Dean...will we still do... _that_ after the baby’s born? Will you still want me even though I’ll have... _ done my duty? _ ” he added. He’d heard stories of course, of tamed angels who rarely saw their mates after the heir was secure. Dean’s parents of course were still as together as they’d ever been but had not the king also strayed? Would Dean…? Castiel broke off, closing his eyes tightly as though he could hide from the thought of it.

The arm that was wrapped around him shook with Dean’s laughter as though the very thought were ludicrous, but when he realised that Castiel wasn’t laughing with him, the arm around him stilled.

“Cas?”

There were tears now, Castiel could feel them forming in the very corner of his eyes. He reached up to wipe at them, looking at the shimmering drop on his hand. He was crying? Why would he be crying? A moment ago he'd been in the throes of ecstasy. What an utterly strange experience pregnancy was.

“Cas,” Dean gently slipped from him, reaching for his arm so as to pull him up, Once Castiel was sitting, Dean wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight for a long time, before he broke away to cup Castiel’s face in both hands, forcing him to look deep into his eyes. “You don’t...you don’t really think that, do you?” He had gone from sounding utterly bemused by the whole thing to genuinely hurt and Castiel couldn’t help but feel guilty for that. He tried to pull back, but Dean wouldn’t let him go.

No, he didn’t really think that. How could he? Dean loved him completely. But then...Dean’s father loved his mother completely… “Your father...” he started, but he didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. Dean swiped his thumbs across Castiel’s face, brushing away the next wave of tears before he leaned in and kissed him with every ounce of being poured into it.

“Castiel,” he said, firmly, “I love you. There is only and will only ever be you.”

He said it with such sincerity, such ferocity, Castiel couldn’t have doubted him for a moment.

“I am nothing like my father,” Dean added, though it sounded like he was saying it more for his own benefit than Castiel’s. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed, I thought you were joking. I swear to you Cas, you are it for me. You are everything, no one else could even come close and there won’t ever be a time I won’t want you in my arms. Or my bed.”

Dean probably hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it was enough to diffuse the last of the tension Castiel seemed to be holding and he let out a choked laugh. He kissed Dean again before he pulled away to wipe the last remnants of tears from his face. “I don’t know where that came from,” he confessed, “May I blame the baby, or would that be unkind?”

Laughing, Dean kissed him, again, softer this time. Gentle. “Hey, the baby is the only reason I’m not getting dragged off to war every time the bell goes, so let’s not get too mad.” He slid from the bed, looking around for the clothes they had torn from each other the night before.

“Dean, you must know that I believe what you say. And, I don’t really doubt you. Not for a moment. You are everything to me.”

Castiel hadn’t meant to say it, it just sort of slipped out. Dean had probably not needed such reassurances but from the way he looked at Castiel, grateful and relieved, Castiel was glad he had given them.

“You are where my life begins and ends, Cas,” Dean replied, his words at odd with the casual tone with which he’d said them as he searched for a clean shirt. “What time is the Principality due?”

_ Oh! _ Castiel had forgotten about that. Not that an angel of the Principality had been dispatched to check if it was a nephilim Castiel was carrying, but that it was specifically today they would arrive. He cast his mind back to the conversation he had had with Queen Mary. “Noon,” he said, trying to remember. “So we will know by the end of today...”

He trailed off but Dean only nodded, vaguely, checking the wardrobe for something.

“Dean...” Castiel started, trying to keep his voice even again, but this time it was nothing to do with the baby.

“Hm?” Dean held up two of the nicer coats he had brought with him, judging which one would look better. His mind was only half on his mate, yet somehow that made it easier for Castiel to hide the tremor in his voice.

“What...what will we do if it’s a nephilim?”

Dean gave a snort and looked back at Castiel as though to assure himself that this wasn’t another question he needed to be taking particularly seriously. “It won’t be.”

“I know the chances are unlikely but what if it  _ is? _ ”

Dean decided on the burgundy and Castiel couldn’t help but agree, the colour always looked good on him. Most colours looked good on him.

“If it is then I guess the demons will really have something to worry about, huh?” Dean said, casually, throwing on the overcoat. He gave Castiel a winning smile and Castiel forced one back, trying not to think about how uneasy he felt and how disappointed he had been by his mate’s answer.

* * *

Most of the angels Dean had met had been dignitaries. A little haughty maybe but generally inoffensive. It was their job after all to be inoffensive. The Principality, Ezekiel, who had come to determine whether Castiel was carrying a nephilim was positively warm by comparison. He greeted Castiel like an old friend, which may have been intentional. Dean hadn’t asked if the angel coming would be one Castiel had known before the taming, but he was glad to see his mate so comfortable. He knew he had been nervous, though Dean wasn’t entirely sure why. A nephilim hadn’t been born for centuries. Though, from the way Dean’s parents were carrying on one would think it had been already announced that Cas was bearing a nephilim worthy of an archangel. The king didn’t even seem bothered that the Kingsguard had been summoned across the kingdom with him at their head.

Dean rocked in his chair, hooking his heel over the edge of the table so that he didn’t fall backwards. The room was hardly empty; there was Dean, Sam, their parents, the standard guards and the two angels who had accompanied the Ezekiel, yet the only sound came from the creaking of Dean’s chair as he moved.

Did it normally take this long?

It felt like it had been hours, but Dean had no frame of reference for such a thing. Wouldn’t they just be able to go, _‘Nope, not a nephilim’_ and everyone could go on their merry way. Dean’s mother didn’t seem worried though and she would have gone through this with him and Sam, so there was that at least.

“Where’s Adam?” he asked, suddenly, ignoring the way his parents glared at him. Since Cas had broken down that particular barrier, Sam and Dean were a lot more comfortable discussing their brother in front of their parents, however much they disapproved. But then, Dean had never particularly enjoyed the wall of silence that had surrounded Adam anyway.

Sam looked around, as though surprised that Adam wasn’t there before he shrugged, “Who knows. The kid’s got a lot of hiding places,” he added with a significant look at their father, “Hell, I’d be surprised if I knew half of them.”

They descended into silence again, disturbed once more by the creaking of Dean’s chair as he rocked it back onto two legs once more. He almost lost the careful balance of it when the door opened and Ezekiel stepped in, but he managed to correct himself before he hit the floor. Thankfully, nobody noticed, nobody except Sam who rolled his eyes in a way only a younger brother could get away with.

Ezekiel said something, but Dean missed it, brushing himself down as he rose. When he looked up, the room was still, his parents looking at him in open shock, the angels too.

“What? I didn’t fall!” he insisted, but his mother was already shaking her head.

“A nephilim, Your Highness,” Ezekiel said in a tone that showed he had already said it once before. “The baby, it _is_ a nephilim.”

Dean was aware he should be reacting. He probably was reacting, but he barely got the chance to appreciate it or even consider how he felt. His mother was wrapping her arms around him pulling him close and showering his cheek in kisses. Over her shoulder he could see the other two angels chattering excitedly while his father spoke with Ezekiel, looking so pleased and proud one might think it was his child being born. Sam, at least, was trying to remove their mother from Dean.

“Give him some air, mother. Let him be.”

“This is marvellous news,” the king said, pulling Dean into another embrace, even though his mother had barely left him. “This child could end the war.”

Ezekiel smiled, almost benevolently, as though he were doing Dean a great favour, “That is the hope, of course.”

Something twisted in Dean’s gut and he pulled back, sharply. “Hey, can we not make plans for a baby that isn’t even born yet?” he muttered.

His parents turned curious eyes towards him before the king laughed. “Forgive my son,” he said to Ezekiel, “he’s clearly overwhelmed.” He turned back to Dean, his hand firm on his shoulder, “You’re not having a baby, son. You’re having a nephilim, that changes everything.”

Cas had asked that, hadn’t he? He’d wanted to know what Dean would do if it was a nephilim. And Dean had dismissed it, their children would be destined to preserve the kingdom regardless of whether they were nephilim or not. At the time he thought Cas had looked worried, but then he’d attributed that to the nervousness they both felt at having a greater angel visit them. He was starting to think maybe there was more to this nephilim business than he thought, but then it had been centuries since they’d lived in Heaven or on earth, he could be forgiven for his ignorance.

“Did you do this?” Dean asked, suddenly turning on his mother, almost as viciously as the thought that had struck him. “Before we came here, Cas said you gave him something, something to make him fertile, did you...was this your doing?”

He might have expected his mother to be shocked but she only laughed, tapping his cheek fondly. “Dean, you can’t _make_ a nephilim. Nothing I gave Castiel could have affected this, this was all you. You should be happy, it means your bond is true,” she smiled.

Dean wasn’t convinced. There was something in the pit of his stomach, a warning. His father was already making plans for the birth with Ezekiel. This was his baby, his and Cas’ baby, but that fact seemed to have been forgotten since the Principality had broken the news.

“Is Cas alright?” Dean demanded of Ezekiel, uncaring that he was interrupting his father or that his father didn’t look happy to be interrupted.

Ezekiel seemed unbothered. “He’s fine. He is in your chambers of course, taking a moment to prepare for what will come.”

“I’m going to see Cas,” Dean muttered, practically tearing out of the room. He had expected someone to stop him, but of course no one did. They were all still laughing and celebrating, patting themselves on the back as though this were some great achievement they could claim.

_ ‘Prepare for what will come.’ _

That wasn’t ominous at all.

He was beginning to think that he should seriously have checked what this whole nephilim business was about, but it had been centuries. How could he have known? His parents had come through the taming in record speed and even their bond hadn’t been true enough to produce a nephilim. Warmth spread through Dean, despite it all, as he reached for the door to his chambers. His bond with Cas was true. They had chosen each other and nothing would break them, nothing could come between them.

Which is why it was a shock for Dean when he opened the door and found Cas hastily throwing random clothes into a satchel. He froze when he saw Dean, but just for a second, before he balled up a shirt and threw it in.

“Cas…?” Dean started, but Cas cut him off with a glare that looked like it could smite a lesser man.

“They won’t take our baby, Dean. I won’t let them take our baby,” Cas muttered, under his breath, as he reached for something Dean couldn’t see. His hands were shaking, why were Cas’ hands shaking?

Dean took a step towards him, but again Cas stopped him with a glare. “I know you said you’d let them but I can’t- I won’t-” he fell over his words as though he couldn’t take the breath to form them. He practically swayed on the spot when Dean jumped forward and caught him, guiding him to the edge of the bed.

Running his hands over Cas’ back, he held him close, even though Cas tried to struggle away.

“Ssh,” Dean soothed, “Hey, c’mon, it’s okay. Talk to me, what’s going on? No one’s going to take our baby, what are you talking about?”

Cas took a deep, ragged breath while Dean rubbed circles across his back, his shoulders, between his wings, trying to calm him down. He steadied himself before he said, “You said the demons would have something to worry about if it was a nephilim. So you expect our child to fight?”

It was a challenge, Dean knew, but he couldn’t quite see what the issue was. “Well, yeah, Cas, of course. That’s what our children would have done anyway, right? Fight, like we're fighting?”

“Dean, nephilim don’t fight like we do. They are trained from the earliest age to destroy demons on levels we can’t comprehend. There’s a reason the demons wiped them out and why right now everyone is out there celebrating how wonderful it is that this baby is one of them.”

Dean felt clammy, he could feel it breaking across his skin, yet he was cold. Why was he so cold?

“When you say earliest age…?” he said, his voice sounding hoarse even to his own ears.

He could see that Cas suppressed his eye roll, for which he was surprisingly grateful. “They’ll take me back to heaven where I will stay until I give birth, then they will take the baby and I will never see them again. You will never see them at all.”

There was a pain in Dean’s chest and somewhere, dimly, something was telling him he needed to breathe.

“Then I’ll come back to you until the next time I fall pregnant, go to Heaven and then they’ll take that baby too and _I won’t let them_. I’m sorry, Dean, I knew it was a possibility, but now that it’s here, now that it’s real, I...I’m not prepared to give up our child.”

The pain in Dean’s chest was red hot, spots had started blinking into his vision. Cas seemed to notice and cupped his cheek, gently, full of concern for him, even now. “Breathe, Dean,” he said, softly and Dean did. The breath torn from him as he pulled Cas closer.

In a strange reversal, now it was Cas comforting Dean. His hand tracing patterns up his arm and across his shoulders as he whispered assurances to him. “You’re okay, Dean. It’s okay. I love you. I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave you but I have-”

“They’re not taking our baby,” Dean said, suddenly, blurting it out against Cas’ shoulder. “I mean it,” he added, when he felt Cas draw back a little, “I won’t let them take you or the baby. Not now, not ever.”

He could see Cas’ relief, of course he could. It spread across his face, sheer unabashed joy, but more than that, Dean could feel it. He could feel it bloom through their bond, spreading through Dean’s body, warming him to his core. But Dean did not revel in it, instead he rested his forehead against his mate’s, breathing deeply, trying to calm himself down.

He  _ really _ should have asked Cas what the deal with a nephilim was.

“Alright,” he said, at length when his heart rate had returned to a standard level. “Alright, so what do we do? What’s your plan?”

Cas looked between Dean and the satchel, hesitating. “You...you do mean it, don’t you? You won’t let them take us?”

“Cas, I swear to you with everything I am that as long as I still draw breath they won’t take you. If I’d known...If I’d thought...well, I wouldn’t have even let them check you out, I’m so sorry I made you think I’d be okay with any of that.”

Cas accepted it, he could feel it and it made Dean feel marginally less worse for not having known any of this in the first place. “I actually didn’t have a plan,” Cas sighed, “Right now I just need to get away. To hide. We can figure out the next move once we’re safe. Your father will be making arrangements for my return with the angels as we speak. Better neither of us be here when they come to collect me.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed, grabbing a bag of his own and throwing the few weapons he kept in their room into it, as well as the usual defences; holy water, salt...all the things he would need if they ran into demons. The blades would do well enough for any human fool enough to try and stop them. A hollow chuckle escaped him and Cas looked up, packing away his own angel blade, but Dean waved him off.

It was nothing. It was just that of all the ways Dean had expected the day to end after waking up and making love to his mate, his true mate, going on the run to save their baby was not one of them. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Had circumstances been different, Castiel might have laughed at the expression on Dean’s face as they ducked through the hallways of the fortress, avoiding the guards where they could. Those they could not avoid did not suspect anything, not yet at least. The prince and his mate were obviously going somewhere, what was suspect about that? The news that Castiel was carrying a nephilim had obviously not been announced yet, or else they wouldn’t have been able to move for congratulations. As it was they moved as easily as they ever did, smiling at those who passed them so as not to arouse suspicion. He wasn't sure how nobody could hear his heart hammering in his chest, surely it had never been so loud.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, under his breath as they moved deeper into the fortress towards the kitchens. Or at least, Castiel hoped it was towards the kitchens, he’d only been this way a handful of times but he seemed fairly certain of the direction.

“You’ll see,” Castiel replied, unwilling to voice it in case the walls could somehow overhear them. He had been right; they had arrived in the kitchens, there was no mistaking them as the busiest rooms in the fortress even compared to the barracks. There were serving girls and errand boys dashing around everywhere, weaving around each other as they somehow managed to discern their orders from the din of shouts from the cooks over the noise of the fires and another meal’s preparation. A hundred different smells clamoured for dominance on the air and Castiel tried to breathe through his mouth; he had never been sensitive to scents before, but then he had never been pregnant before. 

He waited, braced for someone to challenge them, but nobody spared them a second glance, even though the Crown Prince had no reason at all to come down this way. But, then they were hardly dressed for the part; their finery had little place so close to the battlefield. They would probably be mistaken for two soldiers, plain and unassuming, either looking to deliver a message or beg one of the cooks for extra rations. 

Castiel recognised the door he wanted, gesturing for Dean to follow him. They stepped down into what was ostensibly a wine cellar but in actual fact was being used as storage for every kind of food except wine. Wine was a luxury hard gotten in these parts, but there were still some empty casks tucked in the corner and it was to those casks that Castiel took them.

“ _Cas,_ ” Dean hissed, as they stumbled across the dimly lit pantry, “Where the hell are we going?” But Castiel silenced him with a glare. Normally, Dean’s impatience was endearing, right now, with the fate of their unborn child on the line Castiel found himself guarding against it. There would be time for talk, for now they had to get out before the angels realised they were gone. The king too, but he was the lesser of the threats.

The trapdoor was exactly where Castiel remembered it, hidden behind the casks, half obscured by discarded kitchen tools and waste which had never found its way to disposal. As Castiel opened it, he heard Dean gave a low whistle of approval, even though he clearly had no idea where it led. Taking a candle from his satchel, Castiel lit it with a thought, more for Dean’s benefit than his own before he led Dean down the stairs. Dean didn’t need to be asked to pull the door closed behind them and Castiel waited for him to join him at the bottom of the steps.

“Cas, the hell is this?” Dean asked, looking around at the stone walls surrounding them.

“It’s a tunnel,” Castiel bit out, impatiently, regretting how Dean seemed to shrink a little from him. “I’m sorry,” he said, immediately reaching for his mate, drawing him close, which wasn’t difficult given how close they were already forced to be. “I’m-”

“I’m scared too, Cas,” Dean said, pulling him into his arms, as much as he could while Castiel held a lit flame. “It’s going to be okay, no one is taking you or our baby.”

Castiel heard the words and he could feel the sentiment behind them, he knew Dean was speaking truly, but it didn’t help. Not right now. Not when the threat of danger loomed so viciously in the darkness. His heart was still pounding, half expecting someone to spot them, to shout after them or at the very least alert the angelic dignitaries to their escape.

“We should go,” he said, quietly, “When we’re out of here, when we’re safe...”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Dean said, holding onto Castiel’s hand, even as he drew away, “It’s okay. How about you show me where this secret tunnel leads?” Castiel couldn’t help but smile as Dean failed to stifle his grin, “ _What?_ It’s a secret tunnel? That’s awesome.”

The journey through the tunnel seemed to take longer than the first time Castiel had been this way, but that was probably the result of his nerves more than anything else. There was no chance of them losing their way, it was a straight passage, dusty and neglected, but serviceable enough. Eventually, they came to the other end, a stone staircase almost identical to the one that they had entered by. Without hesitation, Castiel pushed open the door that would lead them out of the tunnel, pausing only to check they were in the right place before he reached back to help Dean out.

The room they were in looked surprisingly smart even though it had long fallen into disuse. There was a fire in the grate, not lit of course, but prepared as though it had been waiting for them. Castiel wasn’t surprised to see it, it hadn’t been meant for them of course, but he took advantage of it anyway, taking the candle to the kindling before he used it to light the various sconces around the room. There was furniture, albeit ratty furniture which had seen better days but would serve them well enough for the moment. There were shelves packed with old books and several loose pages in familiar writing, but Castiel paid them no heed for the moment. There was a little food and water tucked away beside one of the tables; again, it was not much, but it would serve.

"Where are we?” Dean asked.

“The old barracks,” Castiel muttered, checking that the room was secure, but nobody had been here for some time. “One of Adam’s hiding places. He gave me a tour of his nooks while we waited for you and Sam to come back sometimes. These barracks were used when there was an army large enough to justify its construction. Before Sam took over and brought everyone into the castle."

“And now Adam uses it as...what…?” Dean trailed off and it occurred to Castiel that maybe he didn’t know…

“As a hiding place for when your father comes.”

There was no malice in his tone, it was a simple fact, but from the look on his face, Castiel could see he had guessed right; Dean hadn’t known.

“He’s not hiding from your father, per se,” Castiel added, hastily, “It’s just...”

Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes as though he were tired, no doubt he was of having to tiptoe around the existence of his half-brother depending on who was in the room. “...it’s just that Adam’s presence isn’t entirely political and Dad doesn’t want him around when it’s not on his terms. You think it’s safe here?”

“For now,” Castiel murmured, “If we tried to leave the fortress then they’d catch us before we could find anywhere to hide. At least this way they’ll focus their attention on the roads and we can figure out our next move.”

“Our next move, right.” Dean dropped into a chair, seemingly far more exhausted than the relatively short journey would allow for. Castiel stepped over to him, sinking onto his lap and holding him close.

“We’ll think of something,” Castiel said, quietly, though he had no idea where they would go from here. As it stood, there wasn’t a being in creation that wouldn’t want to get its hands on the nephilim. Heaven would be relentless, the humans too, though Castiel could at least fly away from those if it came to it. When the demons found out about it Hell throw their best into the mix too. Everyone would want the baby. Their baby. _Their baby_.

“Dean,” he said, softly, appreciating the moment for the first time since Ezekiel had said the words, “Our baby is a nephilim.” He stifled the giggle that was born from pure joy rather than any amusement at the situation.

Dean looked up at him, his green eyes gleaming in the dim light of the fire as his hand moved towards Castiel’s abdomen, where their baby was growing inside.

“I never cared about that,” Dean admitted, “I’m just glad they’re healthy and strong.”

At that, Castiel couldn’t help but snort. “They’ll be the strongest being in existence.”

“You know what I mean,” Dean chuckled, leaning in to leave a kiss against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. “Hey in there, little one,” Dean whispered. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or your father.”

Castiel buried his face in Dean’s hair, pressing kisses wherever he could, holding Dean close. He’d known he was going to end up running the moment Ezekiel had announced the baby was a nephilim, but he was grateful beyond words that Dean had come with him. Whatever may come, and whatever it was was bound to be unpleasant, at least they were together.

* * *

It had been an easy thing for Dean to promise, that he would protect his mate and their child whatever may come. In practice, he wasn’t entirely sure what he could reasonably do. Where could they reasonably go? Their best bet was some small place beyond his father’s kingdom. Most of it had been devastated by Hell, but there were some pockets of civilisation that remained. They’d have to be careful though, Heaven would never stop looking for them, nor would Hell for that matter...actually...neither would his father but he at least had a finite lifespan. It wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts and it was probably a testament to how hopeless the situation was that the only sliver of hope Dean could hold out for was that one day his father would die and maybe Sam wouldn’t hunt them as mercilessly. 

It seemed almost inevitable when the rattle at the door came. Not from the trapdoor Dean and Cas had emerged from, but the actual door that led to the barracks beyond. Dean already knew that he didn’t want to fight whoever it was coming through the door. If they were human they’d be one of his own men, if they were angel then he was about to start something Sam might politely term _a diplomatic incident_. But, it was them or his mate and there was no contest. He beckoned for Cas to move behind him as he drew the larger of the blades he’d brought with him. He readied it, his eyes fixed on the door as it rattled again.

There were muffled voices on the other side of it but Dean’s ears had singled out the sound of a key turning in the lock. His grip on the sword tightened, this was it. The moment where he was called to defend all the promises he had made to Cas, only death would separate them though he had not thought that prospect would make itself known quite so soon. The door flung open as Dean raised the sword, but thank God for angelic agility, Cas had grabbed Dean’s arm prevented the strike before he could land it.

_“Adam!”_ Dean practically screamed, “Adam, what in hell?! I could have killed you!”

Adam, far from being chastised or even surprised that he had almost walked into what would surely have been a killing blow at the hand of his brother, only grinned. He turned to the door and called, “They’re in here, Sam!”

Sam’s head appeared in the doorway, frowning until he saw Dean and his face relaxed into pure relief. “Dean,” he breathed, rushing forward and throwing his arms around his brother even though Dean was still holding a sword.

“Told you we’d find them,” Adam said a little smugly, though he seemed as relieved as Sam.

Dean shook his brother off, “What the hell are you doing here? Does anyone else know you’re here?”

“What? No, you really think we’d do that?” Sam looked so hurt, for the briefest of moments Dean regretted the accusation, but with Cas’ safety on the line, even his brothers were suspect. “You’re good, Dean, Cas, you’re safe,” Sam looked to Cas whose jaw seemed set in a grim line, seemingly as unconvinced as Dean was.

Stepping away from Sam, Dean moved to stand protectively beside his mate. “I swear, if you’ve brought anyone-” he started, but he wasn’t sure how the threat was going to end. Would he hurt his brother? He didn’t want to, but...Cas…the baby...

“There’s no one, Dean, I swear,” Sam insisted. “It’s just us.”

“It’s true,” Adam said, quickly, holding his hands up defensively, everyone thinks Castiel flew you guys somewhere. The angels are searching the skies and father turned the guard out to search the roads,” he couldn’t quite hide his amusement, “they’re all really angry.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean mumbled, still unwilling to relinquish his position beside Cas. “They wanna take the baby.”

“We know,” Sam said, “That’s why we’ve been looking for you. Adam figured you wouldn’t have actually gone anywhere. He said he’d been showing you all his hiding places, Cas, but!” he added, hastily when he saw Dean shift a little, “he only told me. We want to help.”

For what felt like a long time Dean stared down at his brothers, but Sam met his gaze openly. Eventually, Dean lowered his sword and the tension in the air broke. Everyone seemed to breathe out, even Cas relaxed beside him, finding his hand with his own and squeezing it reassuringly.

“So...they know?”

Dean led Cas back to the chair they’d been sitting in, unwilling to let him go too far from him even though he had no doubt his brothers were sincere. Well, _almost_ no doubt.

Sam snorted, looking around for somewhere to sit before he decided to take a cushion beside the fire. “Oh yeah, _they know_. They’d come up with this whole plan about how they were going to get Cas away from you and- did you really punch father when they tried to send you here without him?” Sam asked, suddenly, clearly unsure as to whether he should believe that particular story. Dean flushed a little, but beside him, Cas looked thrilled and Sam’s face split into a grin. “Awesome. Anyway, you’d been gone a while so mother went to fetch you both. Obviously, you weren’t there and it didn’t take them long to figure out _why_ you’d gone.”

“It’s chaos back there,” Adam said with undisguised amusement. “They think you’ll have tried to put as much distance from this place as you could, nobody thinks you’d have stuck around here-”

“No one except Adam,” Sam interrupted, looking with obvious pride at their younger brother.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at him either, “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

Adam shrugged. “It just made sense to me. You know they’d be after you and you wouldn’t be able to outrun them all. Not the angels as well. No one would think you’ll still be here.”

“So...” Sam started, looking between Dean and Cas, “What’s the plan? You know we’ll help you, however we can, right?”

Dean and Cas exchanged a grim look, the hopelessness of their situation which Dean had been attempting to hold at bay threatened to overtake them. They were on borrowed time and Dean knew it. He didn’t want to say it to Cas, didn’t want to worry him, but Cas knew. He had to. Everyone would be hunting them. _Everyone_.

“Dean?” Sam prompted when both he and Cas had been quiet for too long. “You have a plan, right?”

Cas’ hand in his tightened. “We will evade them for as long as we can,” he said, quietly.

It was all they had.

A tense silence settled over them all and Dean found himself reaching for Cas even though they were already as close as they physically could be. “I won’t let them take you.”

Cas smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Somewhere within him, Dean felt like his heart was breaking. “ _There must be something we can do_ ,” he groaned, having not realised he’d voiced the thought until Cas touched his face gently.

“Short of ending the war, I’m not sure what we can do. But I would choose a life on the run over giving up our child any day.”

Something impossible glimmered within Dean. “Ending the war,” he murmured, as though the thought had just struck him.

Across the floor, Sam snorted, “Dean, no, you can’t end the war. That’s the whole point of all this. That’s why they want the baby.”

Dean rubbed his eyes, he was so tired and they hadn’t even started. “You know, this whole thing would be a lot easier if we could just seal the Hellgates. For good I mean.”

They had managed such a thing before, but it had only ever served as a temporary measure before the demons either broke them down again or, what was more likely, overrun those who had sealed them in the first place and broken them down again. Either way, the result was the same and it had only been tried twice more in Dean’s lifetime as far as he could remember. The endeavour was largely pointless and just wasted lives that could not afford to be wasted. Not when they could be lost elsewhere.

“There are spells for that,” Adam shrugged, carelessly, seemingly unaware when everyone turned to look at him. “For sealing the gates of Hell. Permanently, I mean. That’s never been the problem.”

“Then, what has been the problem, oh wise one?” Dean scoffed. He was being unfair, but he was frustrated. Adam would forgive him.

In fact, Adam seemed entirely nonplussed at the outburst. “Getting all the demons _into_ Hell before the gates are sealed is the problem. To do that you’d need...”

“...the power of a nephilim,” Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands, even though Dean noted with an undeserved spike of malice, that it wasn’t his child on the line. It wasn’t his mate.

“Or the power of all four archangels working together,” Cas offered, hopelessly. It was the archangel Lucifer defecting to Hell that had caused all this in the first place. The three archangels remaining were powerful, but since Lucifer had turned, the power of the Host had diminished considerably.

“Or Lilith’s crook,” Adam sighed and once again all eyes fell upon him.

Dean forced himself to remain patient, even though he had long run out of such a thing. But when Adam didn’t continue he said, “Adam? What the hell is Lilith’s crook?”

“Oh, it’s the demonic equivalent of Gabriel’s horn.”

Again, he said this as though the room knew what he was talking about. Cas at least frowned the frown of someone casting their mind back for a long-forgotten memory.

“Adam,” Sam said, patiently, “Why don’t you assume that none of us in the room have been pouring over the war records since the war began, hm? What the hell is Gabriel’s horn?”

“It’s a myth,” Cas said, “Well...the horn itself is a myth. At least, I think it is. It’s said that Gabriel, the archangel, has a horn which can summon all angels to it. I don’t know if the horn itself ever existed but he devised a sigil which works in the same way.”

“And Lilith’s crook is the same for demons. It summons every demon to it, so if you were to use it in Hell, all the demons would be forced back.”

Dean continued to stare at his youngest brother in disbelief, “Adam, are you saying you’ve known how to end the war all this time and what...forgot to mention it?”

Not for the first time Adam glared at him as though he couldn’t quite believe Dean was the oldest and therefore the heir. “No, Dean, I didn’t mention the possibly mythical crook belonging to a demon that may not have ever existed as a means to end the very real war. Especially as it’s thought to be locked within Hell itself, assuming it exists at all. Sorry I didn’t instantly think to launch an expedition into Hell to find the crook, which, again, in case you didn’t catch it, might not exist, before recalling all the demons and having the gates of Hell sealed simultaneously across Purgatory and Earth.”

There was another silence, in which Dean exchanged a meaningful look with Cas. “Well,” he sighed, “Sounds like a plan.”

He wasn’t sure which of his brothers protested first, their shouts seemed to overlap with each other before Adam paused to let Sam speak.

“Dean. In no way is that a plan.”

“It sounds like a plan to me. Better than anything else we’ve got,” Dean muttered. Cas didn’t say anything, but his eyes were bright and his hands tight around Dean’s.

“Dean, you can’t-” Sam broke off, starting again slowly, his face almost buried in his hands as though he couldn’t believe he was having to give voice to the words he was saying. “You can’t go into Hell to look for something that might not exist.”

“If it helps, it probably does exist in some form,” Adam offered, “If Heaven has such a thing then it would make sense for Hell to have one too.”

“Adam, you are not helping,” Sam hissed. “Tell him Cas, tell him he can’t go.”

“Of course he can’t go. _We_ will go.”

Dean was on the very edge of protesting, his heart hammering somewhere in his throat. Cas couldn’t go – not in his condition. But he only had to look at Cas’ face to know there was no point arguing. They would not be parted. Not for anything. Not even this.

“You’ll be killed,” Sam said, weakly, though Dean could tell it was his final attempt at dissuading them. He had nothing else.

He was about to answer, to tell his brother not to worry or something equally ridiculous, when Cas fixed him with a soft glare as he said, “I would rather die than exist solely to breed nephilim for the war effort, separated from my mate except when it serves Heaven and removed from my children.”

This time the silence that fell upon them was heavy, loaded. Neither Sam or Adam could quite meet Cas’ eye for a moment. His hand in Dean’s was gripping so tight, Dean wondered whether or not he was a squeeze away from breaking the bones.

Eventually, Dean cleared his throat, something that sounded awkward in the circumstances. “Alright then,” he said, softly, his attention focused entirely on Cas. On those blue eyes he loved so much and would do anything for. Even this. “Guess we’re going to Hell.”


	8. Chapter 8

They had a plan. It wasn't a good plan, it hadn’t been well thought out and the whole thing reeked of desperation but they did at least have a plan. Despite that, after a few days Castiel and Dean still hadn't gone anywhere. Ironically, there was too much to plan.

It had been several years since the humans attempted to cross the battlefields towards the Hellgate. They may know, roughly, where it was but they didn’t know how fortified it would be, if it was at all. The demons had never seen it as something that needed to be guarded; there was little point. Besides, leaving someone to guard it suggested that there was some kind of demonic general taking charge instead of the mass hordes unified only by the vague sense that they wanted to lay waste to something. If they actually took Heaven and Earth they’d just turn them into extensions of Hell.

It was all they knew.

Castiel and Dean were still hiding out in the old barracks with mostly Adam for company. Sam couldn’t have stayed away too long without arousing suspicion, especially with Castiel’s in-laws orchestrating the search from Sam’s own garrison. The king and queen continued to pay no attention to Adam and so didn’t notice in the slightest that he wasn’t present for the search effort. He did slip back to the fortress occasionally but that was mostly to fetch things that Dean needed or to pass messages between them and Sam.

At night though, it was just the two of them.

Under normal circumstances, Castiel would have curled up with Dean and stayed with him until he inevitably fell asleep. He didn’t need to sleep and there was plenty to figure out in the twilight hours, but biology had other ideas. Carrying a nephilim _apparently_ required him to rest and so every night he would lie down on the mass of fabrics they were using as a bed and sleep, wrapped in Dean’s arms until morning came and woke them. Or Adam. Whichever came first.

“I like this,” Dean murmured one morning, his lips pressed against Castiel’s forehead even though Castiel hadn’t realised he was awake.

Against his mate Castiel frowned, “You like being on the run from your family and the Host of Heaven who will certainly separate us if they find us?”

Dean’s body shook with silent laughter and the fingers curled into Castiel’s hair tightened a little. “No. I like _this_. Being here, with you, just the two of us. It’s nice.”

Castiel quite understood the sentiment, there was nothing more fulfilling than waking up in Dean’s arms, usually in the same position in which they fell asleep. If, on the off chance, Castiel had moved in the night, Dean moved with him, refusing to be parted from him even in sleep. But there were things to be done. Castiel tilted his head back so he could kiss his mate, a slow, lingering thing into which he tried to pour every ounce of his love. It was impossible to do so, but Dean appreciated the effort, even if he did try and pull Castiel closer, try to take the kiss deeper...

“We have things to do,” Castiel said, firmly, leaving a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips and ignoring his whine as Castiel pulled away, forcing himself out of the warmth of their makeshift nest and back towards the tomes he had been looking at the night before.

Behind him, he could hear Dean stretching out under the blankets, his limbs making an assortment of cracks and clicks which always sounded unpleasant to Castiel, but his mate groaned with relief. “I can think of something I’d like to do...” Dean said, suggestively and Castiel knew without looking back that he had no doubt positioned himself in the most seductive pose he could imagine, hoping that Castiel would fall for his ‘come hither’ eyes and sultry voice.

He was right. Which is exactly why Castiel didn’t turn around.

“Don’t be lewd, Dean,” he said, softly, “We really do have things to do.”

Dean gave up, even though Castiel wasn’t entirely sure how long his own resolve could hold out. The threat of Adam coming in upon them should have been deterrent enough though.

Should have been.

Wasn’t.

Pulling a robe on, Dean crossed the room to wrap his arms around Castiel’s midriff, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “Alright, what’s on the cards today?”

Castiel traced the notes he had written in Enochian the day before. “Today we’re going to summon and trap an archangel.”

Dean’s arms stilled around him. “We’re going to do what now?”

“Summon and trap an archangel,” Castiel said again, assuming that Dean hadn’t heard him. “We were discussing means of closing the gateway from Hell into Purgatory. I think our only feasible option would be to have the angels do it for us, seeing as they’re already on the offensive there.”

The warmth of Dean’s arms disappeared as he came around the table, looking at Castiel as though he’d sprouted a second head.

“What?”

When Castiel looked over at him, he was surprised to see such confusion in Dean’s eyes. He _had_ been a part of the conversation, Castiel looked down at the paper in front of him and yes – there was Dean’s writing, he had made notes too.

“We need to seal the Hellgate on Earth and the one in Purgatory-” he started, slowly, wondering how Dean could have forgotten.

Dean held his hands up, “No, _no no no no_ , I remember that. I’m just wondering how we’ve gone from ‘the gate in Purgatory needs to be closed behind them,’ to ‘ _we’re going to summon and trap an archangel?’”_ he hissed.

Neither of them had heard Adam open the door, but they heard it close as he practically fell over himself to enter the room. “We’re doing _what?_ ” he gasped.

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture he’d picked up from Sam seeing as angels didn’t need to resort to such things to avoid stress. Generally, angels were immune to stress. Clearly, the only thing needed to test that particular theory was the presence of a Winchester.

“Sealing the gate in Purgatory will require the assistance of the Host one way or another. Seeing as we can’t simply ask for their help, summoning and trapping an archangel will allow us to have the conversation on our terms without threat to us or the baby.”

Adam at least seemed to run the process through his head before he nodded in agreement. “That makes sense.”

“Oh yeah. Perfect sense,” Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Except the bit about trapping an archangel. I don’t know much about them but aren’t they supposed to be assholes? What makes you think trapping one of them will make them want to listen to us?”

It was a fair question, Castiel thought, maybe he shouldn’t have assumed that Dean would instantly be on board with his plan, even though they had little other recourse. “Trust me, the archangel we will summon can be reasoned with.”

Dean didn’t look convinced but he reached out for Castiel’s hand regardless. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

‘ _About as safe as the rest of our insane plan,_ ’ Castiel wanted to say, but that would have been needlessly cruel. It was for him Dean was worried after all. “Safe enough,” he said, eventually, hating the way that Dean’s face fell at the admission. Hating that there was nothing more he could say or do to reassure him. Dean squeezed his hand anyway and Castiel revelled in its simple comfort.

They stared at each other fondly for a moment before Adam cleared his throat, “So...should I leave you guys to it?”

Only Castiel could see Dean roll his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Forgive us,” Castiel smiled, “Actually, I’ll need your help to gather the ingredients I’ll need for the spell, if I give you a list do you think you’ll be able to acquire them?”

Adam looked only too happy to help, as he always did. Castiel couldn’t help but smile at him. He liked Sam, of course, but he’d grown close to Adam during their many nights waiting in the fortress for Sam and Dean to return home from the battlefield.

He scribbled what would be needed onto a scrap of paper and handed it to Adam.

“Wait...you’re going to do it here?” Dean asked, gesturing to their decrepit surroundings. “Won’t that tip our hand? If he gets loose or if he won’t go along with it then they’ll know where we are.”

“If he gets loose or he won’t go along with it them knowing where we are will be the least of our problems,” Castiel said, grimly. He knew he wasn’t exactly assuring Dean, but then the situation had been hopeless from the start. Their plan was ridiculous, bordering on insanity having worked in several shades of impossible and yet… Castiel’s hand wandered of its own volition to his abdomen… It would work, he thought fiercely. Dean must have caught the drift of his thoughts for he looked up, determination flashing behind his eyes.

“I won’t let them take you,” Dean said. He said it a lot. Every time he said it it sounded a little less like a promise and a little more like a death sentence. The Host would prefer to keep him alive to breed more nephilim but if Dean made that too hard on them, if he made himself more trouble than he was worth...Castiel knew they’d kill him first. He hadn’t told Dean that. Nor had he told him what he intended to do if they did kill Dean, recognising it for the trump card that it was.

Dean’s fingers curled around the nape of Castiel’s neck, drawing him closer. “ _I won’t_ ,” he said, his breath ghosting over Castiel’s lips.

“I’m...I’m just going to go now,” they heard Adam say dimly, but neither of them paid any particular attention to his leaving. Castiel was already lost as his mate kissed him, fiercely, as though he could keep Castiel safe with devotion alone.

* * *

“This is crazy,” Sam muttered under his breath for about the hundredth time in half as many minutes.

Dean rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. His brother wasn’t wrong. It _was_ crazy. Somehow the idea of walking into Hell seemed almost sane compared to the prospect of summoning an archangel into a trap in an attempt to coerce them into helping them. But that’s what they were doing. Their bags were packed with what was hopefully enough food to get them into Hell, though what they were going to do on the journey back was anyone’s guess. Whether the archangel helped them or not, they were going into Hell.

“I think we’re ready,” Adam said, as though they could ever be ready for such a thing.

Cas caught Dean’s eye, an unspoken desire for permission to continue. He didn’t need it but they were in this together. Dean gave an almost imperceptible nod and watched as Cas checked and double checked the trap they’d drawn on the floor without getting too close. If it could trap an archangel it could probably do worse to Cas.

It took a while before Cas was satisfied, even though the sigils had been drawn at his direction. When he was done, he stepped back and slipped his hand into Dean’s, pressing their foreheads together in a gesture that grounded them both and calmed them against the idiocy they were about to embark upon. “Last chance,” Cas said, softly, “Once we do this we cannot go back.”

Dean nodded, but there was no question. Not really. If the impossible was needed to safeguard the life of their child, the impossible it would be. “I love you,” he said, regretting the tone of finality that crept into his voice. Cas didn’t mind. In fact he smiled, leaning in to kiss him, returning the sentiment.

When Cas moved off Sam caught his eye. Dean tried to reassure him with little more than a smile but Sam’s expression was grim. Adam, by contrast, just looked excited to be there. He’d never heard of an archangel summoning before and his eyes seemed alight with anticipation. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the enthusiasm.

“Alright,” Cas breathed, stepping back from the trap, his hand clenched around the powder he had made up earlier in the day. He looked between the three of them, his eyes lingering on Dean for a little longer than the others before he started muttering under his breath in the ancient language of his people.

He threw the powder into the centre of the trap, his grace flaring as his wings flexed against the movement. There was a blinding light, so bright it bled into Dean’s eyes even after he had covered them with his hands. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone.

Dean lowered his hands, blinking against the residual impression of the light that had burned its way into his eyes, but it cleared swiftly enough. And it had worked. Or at least, he assumed it had worked. There was an angel in the trap, though not quite the angel Dean had expected.

He had never seen an archangel. There were only four of them and one of them had fallen from grace centuries before the kingdom of man had even been established. He’d heard of the other three Michael, Raphael and Gabriel but he’d never imagined what they might look like. He had not expected... _this_. An angel who looked much like every other angel he’d ever seen except that he was much shorter and his wings were golden. For a moment, Dean couldn’t look away from them. They obviously weren’t made of gold, yet they seemed to shine even in the dim light of the room, dwarfing everything around them in what seemed to be more a display of annoyance than dominance.

He was regarding Cas almost quizzically, as though he were more bemused than anything else. Dean braced himself for what was no doubt going to be a lengthy tirade. Instead, the archangel cocked his head and in a positively jaunty voice said, “Heya, Cassie!”

Dean laughed. He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just the nonchalance of the archangel, it was the way Cas already looked exhausted just from those two words.

"Gabriel,” he said, a world of exasperation condensed into one word.

 _This_ was the archangel Gabriel?

Dean had been grossly misinformed as to the ferocity of archangels.

Gabriel’s eyes fell on him and he smirked, “And this must be the guy who knocked you up!”

“Must you be so crude?” Cas sighed.

“I dunno, Cassie, you’re the one who brought me here,” Gabriel looked around the room as though he didn’t think much of his surroundings, at least until his eyes fell on Sam. “Well, _hello_ there. Cassie, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Dean was convinced his jaw was somewhere on the ground. They had trapped an archangel, an archangel who instead of getting angry at them for their impudence was flirting with Dean’s brother. Life was becoming somehow more insane by the minute.

“Gabriel, I need your help,” Cas snapped, ignoring Gabriel’s attentions towards Sam.

Gabriel winked at Sam before looking back at Cas with a shrug. “I bet you do. You’ve caused quite a stir you know. Half of Heaven wants to drag the two of you back there and keep you there even after the little one comes along and the other half want you to be left alone.”

Something flared in Dean, this was news to him. He'd never imagined they'd actually have support among the Host. “They do?” he asked, hopefully.

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel said, “It started with Balthazar of course, he’s still as devoted to you as ever.” Dean felt his gut clench, but Cas didn’t react. _Who the hell was Balthazar?_ “Then Ishim and his lot jumped in and it just sort of snowballed from there.”

“And you?” Cas asked, showing no reaction to the news that not every angel in heaven was out for his blood.

Gabriel shrugged, “I didn’t care one way or the other but,” his eyes flicked to Sam, “I’m starting to come around to your point of view. I’m not sure what you hope to gain from this though, Cassie. There’s no way you’ll be able to keep yourselves hidden once the kid is born and even if you do, where are you going to go? What will you do? They’ll find you eventually. You got lucky and bagged yourself a true mate but, you can’t keep the kid, not while we’re losing people to Hell every week.”

Dean might have been discouraged but Gabriel didn’t seem to be saying anything that he didn’t believe to be true. There was no malice in his voice, he was simply telling them how things were. Maybe that’s why, instead of letting Cas do the talking, Dean blurted out, “We’re going into Hell and we’re gonna take all the demons with us. We’re ending this war and then you and yours can leave our baby alone.”

“And how are you going to do that Dean-o?”

‘ _Dean-o?_ ’ Dean thought, ‘ _Seriously?_ ’

Before he spoke, Dean looked over at Cas just in case Cas wanted to keep their plan between them. But Cas met his gaze openly, so Dean continued. “We’re going to find Lilith’s crook and get all the demons back in Hell. Once we’ve done that we’ll need your help to slam shut the Hellgates behind them.”

He had expected Gabriel, at the very least, to laugh at them. He did not expect him to fold his arms and give a ‘hm’ of consideration. “Well, you’re insane,” he said, eventually, which deflated Dean somewhat. “I mean assuming you even get into Hell, and that’s a big _if_ right there, then you’ve got to survive Hell itself and find the crook and-”

“The crook’s real?” Adam asked, apparently before he could stop himself.

Gabriel didn’t seem to mind the interruption. “Sure is...doesn’t mean you’ll find it though. Let’s say you get into Hell and manage to survive in there long enough to search, that’s a lot of ground to cover and the two of you? An angel and a human in Hell? Well, that’s hardly incognito.”

But Dean wasn’t listening. His heart was thundering in his chest; the crook was real. They had a chance. It wasn’t much of a chance but it was something.

The crook was real.

 _The crook was real_.

“Will you help us?” Cas asked, cutting off Gabriel’s speech about how impossible their plan was.

Gabriel sighed, but it wasn’t the sigh of someone who was about to say no. In fact, he seemed to be considering it. The cocky, irreverent facade had dropped and instead Dean saw that he could be serious; the change was almost chilling.

“I-” he started but he broke off, looking at Cas. Cas looked back, seemingly conveying an entire conversation through his eyes alone. This time when Gabriel sighed it was one of resigned defeat, “Alright. Alright, if you pull this off I’ll make sure the gates are sealed behind you, but you know you won’t be able to use the crook _and_ get out of Hell, right?”

Dean heard his words but they didn’t quite register. He was walking on air, relief flooding through his body with such force he was dizzy with it. The crook was real and an archangel was on their side. Everything else was details.

Their ridiculous plan had moved from completely and utterly impossible to slightly less impossible.

It was a win he had never expected them to take.


	9. Chapter 9

The ground beneath them was covered in ash and surprisingly difficult to walk over. For his part, Castiel could correct the way he seemed to constantly lose his footing with his wings but Dean beside him kept stumbling and was becoming more and more annoyed for it. But it was more than that.

Dean had been quiet since they’d broken the trap that bound Gabriel and let him work out his side of the plan with Sam and Adam. Mostly Adam but Gabriel had insisted Sam stay. Castiel and Dean had started their journey. It would take a day or two to cross the plains which had been towns and farmland once. Now it was blighted by fire and ash.

There were no patrols to avoid at least. The demons didn’t go in for such things but they would have to avoid any clusters of them that had broken away from the larger forces. It would have been easier on horseback but there wasn’t a beast alive that would dare venture so close into the land claimed by Hell.

“Are you alright?” Castiel asked Dean as he slipped in the ash  _ again _ . He reached for him but Dean shrugged him off. Castiel tried not to feel hurt at it. It was probably nothing; he was probably just frustrated at having tripped so many times.

Castiel turned his attention to a ridge that didn’t seem to be too far away but was probably further than it looked. It was hard to judge distance with the sky bathed in Hellfire. Everything was bathed in a red glow and it was so hot, almost unbearably hot. Dean had wrapped a cloth around his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier. Even though it didn’t affect him as badly, Castiel could still taste the brimstone and sulphur on the air with every breath.

“Sam said there used be a town just beyond that ridge. We should be able to find some shelter there to spend the night.”

Dean gave a small ‘hm’ of agreement but there didn’t seem to be much feeling behind it. Castiel sighed but didn’t push it. Not right now. If part of the town was still standing then they would be able to see out the night and maybe have a conversation. It was going to be a long couple of days if Dean was going be so abrasive. But then Hell affected humans more than it affected angels. Perhaps Castiel just needed to be a little more understanding.

Dean’s mood did not improve when they came upon the town exactly where Sam had said it would be. There were demons as Castiel had expected there would be but nothing that even remotely posed a threat. They were the lowest form of demons. Crawling, monstrous things that dragged themselves across the floor, hissing and screaming towards Dean and Castiel when they noticed them and were easily dispatched for their trouble.

They took refuge in a church of all places. Or at least the remains of one. The roof was still mostly intact and the door could be closed against intruders. There were huge gashes in the walls as though something of a monstrous height had gouged at them with gigantic claws but they hid near what remained of the altar and Castiel was comfortable nothing would find them. Not without warning at any rate.

The demons had little use for towns they had already razed and only the weakest remained as demonstrated by their welcome. Besides, there was something strangely comforting about the way the prayers to the Gods had survived even in a place such as this. The sky may be burning and the building may be crumbling but the demonstrations of a once pious community remained.

“Should we put up warding?” Dean asked in what were the most words he’d spoken to Castiel since they’d summoned Gabriel.

Castiel shook his head. “Better not. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves by suddenly taking this place off their senses.”

Dean frowned. “So you’re saying if we ward it we’d be more likely to bring them down on us?”

“Sounds ridiculous I know...”

“No. Actually, it makes sense.” Dean sighed. He dropped down next to Castiel and started rummaging through his bag for something to eat. Castiel hoped he’d find something that didn’t need cooking. There was something unpleasant at the thought of cooking in this desolate place. As though the food might be tainted just from its proximity. Thankfully, there were slices of game pie and offcuts of the deer King John had hunted en route to the fortress. Given the heat in the air, Castiel didn’t mind cold food in the slightest and offered clean water to wash it down.

“Dean-” he started but Dean cut him off almost immediately.

“So...Gabriel seemed to know you pretty well.” It almost sounded like an accusation.

“Gabriel and I have fought in many wars together. At one point I was a seraph under his command.”

The handful of food that had been on its way to Dean’s mouth froze in mid-air with his hand. “You were a seraph?”

It hadn’t occurred to Castiel that Dean knew nothing of Castiel’s life before he’d reached the age of the wild hunt. He knew he had been a soldier, a warrior but he probably hadn’t known that he’d been a seraph; one of the very highest of angels.

“I was,” Castiel said calmly, aware that Dean was looking at him almost in awe. “Gabriel is by far the most personable of the archangels and as I said we fought in many wars together. If any of them were going to help us it would have been him.”

“And who in hell is Balthazar?” Dean snapped and Castiel made an inward ‘ah’ of realisation.

Of course. Now he understood.

He moved almost imperceptibly closer to Dean, stretching his wings out so that they curled around him. Dean noticed the shift but didn’t say anything.

“Balthazar is-  _ was _ – a very good friend. He was my right hand in everything I did. We were very close.” Castiel said gently. If he tried to downplay how close they had been then Dean would have sensed it through their bond and he had no reason to be deceptive.

“Gabriel said he was devoted to you.”

Castiel laid the pie he’d been eating to one side, shifting closer to Dean until he was practically straddling his lap. He took the bottle from Dean’s hand and put it beside them, cupping his face so that he had no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes.

“Dean. There has only ever been you. Balthazar was never a prospect for me even if the wild hunt had not taken me when it did. You are my life. My everything. Do not ever think I would even notice another when I have you.”

“Mine,” Dean sighed as he trailed kisses along Castiel’s neck.

“Yours,” Castiel said, rocking his hips in a blatant invitation. “After all. _You_ are my true mate and it is _your_ child I am carrying.”

A small growl escaped Dean’s throat, something dominant and a little possessive. Castiel didn’t mind in the slightest.

“What is Balthazar to that?” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear, threading his fingers into Dean’s hair to keep his balance as Dean surged forward claiming Castiel’s lips with his own.

Dean was a little rougher than Castiel was used to but he didn’t care. In fact, he kind of liked it. Dean pushed him down against the floor, harshly, covering his body with his own and pinning Castiel there as he devoured his lips. His fingers were firm against Castiel’s skin, digging with enough force to leave bruises if Castiel had been human enough to suffer them.

Castiel hooked a leg around Dean’s thighs, pulling him flush against him even though there was barely a whisper of space between them. Dean ground down as Castiel canted his hips, able to feel Dean’s desire even though the layers of their clothes. Something Dean was quick to rectify. Castiel’s shirt was tied at the back, below his wings and somehow in one swift movement Dean had it off him, casting it aside carelessly.

Arching his back against him, Castiel tried to touch Dean but his hands only curled into the fabric of his shirt and even though he tugged at it he couldn’t get it loose. Not that Dean gave him much chance at the attempt, pinning his arms down, his mouth roving across Castiel’s chest licking and biting as though he might lay claim to him once again.

“Mine,” Dean breathed again, turning Castiel over in his arms, driving his chest against the floor as Castiel bucked his hips back, trying to find the friction he craved against him. Dean kissed his way down Castiel’s spine, his hands tugging at Castiel’s pants. The ground was warm beneath them, warmer even than if they had been making love in their own bed in their own rooms. This had not been on the list of things they’d intended to do in land claimed for Hell. But then Dean leaned in, his breath ghosting across the swell of Castiel’s ass as he trailed a finger through the first hint of slick and Castiel thought it was the best idea they’d ever had.

He canted his hips as Dean worked two fingers into him. The stretch burned but Castiel couldn’t stop the moans that fell from his lips as Dean whispered low against his skin.

“Wanted you for my mate the moment I saw you. And then you let me tame you and-” his words were lost as Dean thrust a third finger in and Castiel groaned, his hands scrabbling to find purchase on the floor beneath him. “You’re mine, Castiel.  _ Mine _ .” Dean breathed, pulling his fingers out harshly but replacing them soon enough with something longer. Thicker. Filling him exquisitely. 

Dean covered Castiel’s back with his own, his lips dropping down to Castiel’s ear so he could nibble at it. As his teeth grazed the tip of it Castiel arched his back, feeling the fabric of Dean’s clothes against him. He remembered that first day of their first coupling on the day they met. The day Castiel had been brought before the Crown Prince to be tamed or rejected. Where Castiel had whimpered against him, “please don’t expose me...” and now here he was, stripped and bare before his mate while Dean had pulled his clothes aside enough to loose himself and drive into Castiel with the force of a man possessed.

Dean’s hands found their way into the base of Castiel’s wings, searching out the spot where he knew Castiel liked to be touched. The place where Dean could dig a little deeper, where the pain was enough to skirt into pleasure. And then he found it and Castiel was lost. His wings would have thrashed wildly had Dean not been using them for leverage. Castiel could feel tears forming in the corner of his eyes as bliss pooled in his gut, his cock bobbing heavily between him and the ground.

“Come for me, Cas,” Dean growled. “Only for me.”

“ _Only you, only you_ ,” Castiel could hear himself babbling as he came, untouched, beneath his husband. Dean was panting something through his own release but Castiel couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears. Every tendril of his grace had ignited, burning him from the inside out, sparking in the air around them. Dean’s arms came around him, holding him close whispering endearments into his ear, pressing his lips against Castiel’s neck. Castiel gave himself over to the touch, allowing Dean to lie him down against him, his hands stroking him everywhere as Castiel drifted into the sweet, soft embrace of the darkness.

* * *

Carefully, gently, Dean wrapped Cas in the only blanket they brought with them. He probably didn’t need it, not when the air was so warm around them but it felt like the right thing to do. Cas let out a satisfied sigh as he stretched out in Dean’s arms, tilting his head to press a kiss to his lips even though his eyes were still closed.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, tracing ancient sigils across Cas’ skin. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.” It was stupid. It had all been so stupid. How could he have been jealous of someone else? 

Balthazar? 

Cas had never even mentioned him. Why would a passing remark from an Archangel strike at the most primitive part of Dean. The one that drove him to ensure his mate belonged to only him. Of course, Cas belonged to only him. Who else could there be? What could come between them? 

Cas looked up at him as though he hadn't quite heard him. "I liked it." 

"Oh." Warmth flooded through Dean and he felt inordinately pleased with himself. 

"You're amazing," Cas whispered, drawing him in for another kiss. It was slow, precious and his lips lingered for a moment as he murmured, "You're perfect."

Dean's hand stroked Cas' abdomen through the blanket. "You don't think-" He hesitated, unsure if he was being ridiculous. "You don't think it might have hurt the baby?" 

Cas chuckled but it was a soft thing, indulgent and he kissed Dean again. "No. I don't think it could have. Feel free to get jealous of any of my former garrison at any point if it means you'll do  _ that  _ again _."  _

They settled down together and Dean could feel himself drifting. Not completely. He wouldn't allow himself to relax totally, not when his mate was falling asleep in his arms and they were in such a dangerous place however empty it had been when they'd arrived. 

He dozed, of that he was certain. At several points he woke to find that he'd shifted position in his sleep but that Cas was still pulled against him; dead to the world. Dean nuzzled his head against Cas' neck and allowed himself to drift with one ear in the real world. 

It meant that when something beyond the church walls growled Dean heard it immediately. He didn't know what it was but he wasn't about to take any chances. Not across enemy lines, not with his mate's life. He shook Cas awake silently, holding a finger to his lips and gesturing to where he had heard the noise to indicate that something was amiss. 

Cas understood, reaching for his clothes and his angel blade simultaneously as Dean took up his own sword and rose, carefully peering around the corner of the wall they'd sheltered by. 

He could see nothing but he could hear it. A low rumble, deep and feral. 

Hellhounds. 

He had heard of such beasts but never seen one. Not that a human _could_ see them. But it was rare indeed for a Hellhound to venture too far without its master. And Hellhounds could only be commanded by the strongest of demons. 

Cas' hand found his and he squeezed tightly. The growls were all around them now. Dean couldn't tell how many there were but it was more than a few. More than he'd have been comfortable taking on. He wanted to tell Cas he loved him but that felt like it might be admitting this was the end. 

This was a setback. A minor inconvenience. They weren't going to be stopped like this, not by some rabid dogs that had never been brought to heel. Dean was the Crown Prince and Cas was an angel, a former Seraph carrying the first nephilim that would be born in centuries. 

This was not where it was going to end and Dean held onto that thought even as all Hell broke loose. 

There were Hellhounds yes but there were demons too. Monstrous deformed things throwing themselves at Dean and Cas, their hands leaving blistering welts where they managed to lay their touch. They were separated early on as an invisible mutt clamped its jaws around Dean's leg and threw him as though he were a child's plaything across the floor. Cas stabbed it through its head for its trouble, trying to take out the opponents that Dean couldn't see. 

Then two of the demons managed to get a chain around Cas, drawing it tight around his arms and chest. Dean might have wondered why they were bothering but he was being wrestled to the ground by a demon of his own and if the sounds and smell were anything to go by, at least one Hellhound. 

"Dean!" He heard Cas shout as he fought against his bindings in an attempt to reach his husband but the chain glowed against him in sigils Dean didn't recognise but must have diminished angels. Cas should have been able to crush the chain with a thought, instead, the markings grew brighter the more he forced himself against them. 

There was a hand at his throat and Dean was flipped onto his stomach, his face pushed down into the ash-covered floor, forced to look at Cas. 

" _Fly, Cas_ ," he thought as he tried to spit the dust and blood from his mouth. " _Get free and fly_." 

The demon held him firmly, pinning him to the ground with unnatural strength that Dean had no hope of throwing off. But if Cas could get free. He could run. He and the baby would be safe. From the way Cas was looking at him he could tell he'd heard his prayer. 

Dean tried to smile at him. Tried to reassure him even as he felt the pressure on his back reach unbearable levels. "Dean!" Cas screamed again, the force of it blowing out what few windows had survived the initial assault. 

" _It's okay, Cas,_ " he thought, " _I lo-_ " 

"Alright, that's enough." A voice Dean didn't recognise called out but the effect was immediate. The Hellhounds fell silent and the weight at Dean's back was gone, the demon hoisting him to his feet instead. Cas remained chained but they did not pull at it as they once had. 

A man had stepped into the church. A man Dean had never seen before and might have passed for a human if he hadn't taken a moment to flash red eyes at him. A demon then. One of the higher-ups, capable of forcing themselves into a human vessel. One that no doubt commanded the Hellhounds and those that were currently holding Dean and Cas even if they weren't hurting them anymore. 

"Well," the man said in an accent that placed his vessel as having come from many lands away. "There I was thinking I'd never bloody find you and then you go and get your rocks off on our side of the lines." 

Dean and Cas exchanged a look. Demons were not known for talking. Demons killed, corrupted and burned. They did not  _ talk.  _

"You might as well have sent a flare up but luckily for you it was only me who felt it. You'd have been screwed, pardon the pun if any of my superiors had been around. They'd have killed you on the spot."

"Instead of what? Talking us to death first?" Dean snapped. He wasn't sure what was going on so resorting to snappy retorts seemed a reasonable course. 

" _Please_ ," the man scoffed, "if I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. No. I have other ideas for the two of you. I have a feeling we're going to be quite good friends."

He held a hand up and the demon holding Dean backed off. Entirely. If Dean wanted to he could pick up his sword and run him through. The Hellhounds hadn't moved either. They could have killed Dean but they hadn't. 

"I'm going to let go of your little birdie here too," the man said with a lazy wave of his hand in Cas' direction. "But I'd like to know you'll hear me out if I do."

Hear...him...out?

Dean caught Cas' eye and the minute shake of his head that said his mate had as much idea as to what was going on as Dean did. 

But… He hadn't killed them despite ample opportunity. 

And he had let Dean go. 

Slowly, Dean nodded, but he kept his hand gripped firmly on his sword. The man noticed but remained unfazed. Another wave of his hand and the chain was on the floor. Immediately, Cas reared up with a screech that Dean felt ringing in his very bones. The demons cowered from it and even the man had the good sense to wince. Cas was at Dean's side in an instant, stretching out his wings in an impressive display of dominance as his eyes burned with the power of the Host. 

"Give me one good reason not to smite you all here and now!" Cas demanded, his voice sounding as though a dozen angels were speaking at once. If Dean hadn't felt completely and utterly safe in his presence he would have been trembling. 

"You could," the man offered, "you'd almost be mad not to. But believe it or not my little feathered friend I am here to help you, your little Prince here and that  _ thing _ in your belly that's gonna put us all out of business." 

Dean's arm came around Cas' waist as though to protect the baby from words that they couldn't even hear at this point. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked, his head spinning from the turn of events. Or perhaps it was from the blows he'd received. 

The man held his hands out expansively, "why don't we start from the beginning? Hello boys. My name is Crowley and I'm here to make a deal."


	10. Chapter 10

The notion of working with a demon should have been unthinkable. Castiel could see  _ it _ . He could see beyond the well-dressed vessel the monster had forced himself into. Behind the crisp accent, the manicured nails and the proposal so smooth it might have been practised, there was a demon. A hideous, twisted, corrupt creature that couldn’t be trusted. Castiel could see his true face. Monstrous and deformed; the very picture of Hell itself. He should have killed him as soon as he’d had his lackeys release him. Instead, he was left to nurture a burning hatred within him that they'd even listened to the demon. To  _ Crowley _ .

Still. That was nothing compared to the hatred he felt that they actually considered the proposal as it was laid out. At least he could tell from the way Dean’s jaw was set that Dean was as unimpressed as he was. He’d reached out for Castiel’s hand, holding it tightly in case this was some kind of trick and he feared the chance of them being separated again.

Crowley was too smart not to have noticed the way Castiel and Dean were looking at him. Their distaste was written on every inch of their bodies but it didn’t stop him from talking.

“ I know you’re heading to Hell,” Crowley said, deciding to cut right to it at least. “And I know you’ve got a plan to find Lilith’s crook, seal us all in there and slam the doors shut behind us.”

“ How in hell did you know that?” Dean snapped, holding Castiel’s hand a little tighter.

Crowley ignored the question either because he enjoyed the sound of his own voice too much or because he enjoyed that he’d caught them unaware. Neither was particularly palatable in Castiel's view. 

“ _And,_ ” he said with added emphasis, “I know that you’re carrying the next Messiah or whatever you want to call the brat.” He waved his hand towards Castiel’s abdomen. In an instant Dean’s hand moved to cover it, as though he could protect the baby from Crowley’s snide looks with that movement alone. But Castiel scoffed.

Their child would be a thousand times more powerful than the Messiah.

“ Cards on the table boys. I’m not stupid enough to think that the combined forces of Hell can stand against _that_. There's a reason the nephilim were wiped out and it took all the Knights of Hell to do it. We don't stand a chance without them and that’s assuming anyone could get our lot to stand together in the first place...” he trailed off. “I mean, have you  _ seen _ them? Mangy, disgusting things most of them. And there isn’t a brain cell between the leaders. They think there’s nothing finer in life than maiming if you can believe such a thing.”

“ Get to the point,” Castiel snapped even though he knew Crowley would get to the point in his own sweet time and not before.

“ _My point_ , feathers, is that if we are going to be forced back in the Hellhole that is...well...Hell, then I’d like to do it on my own terms.”

Castiel didn’t understand and from the look on Dean’s face, neither did he.

“ I’ll help you into Hell,” Crowley said as he rolled his eyes as though he couldn’t believe that they hadn’t caught on to what he was suggesting. “I’ll help you find the crook and in return you let me use it. I’ll be the one to bring everyone into Hell.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look before Dean took his hand back so that he could fold his arms.

“ Why?”

Crowley arched an eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed. “Why?”

“ What’s in it for you?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowed looking for the catch. Castiel didn’t blame him. Even if Crowley was telling the truth about helping them find the crook and Castiel didn’t believe that in the slightest, then he wouldn’t be doing it out of the goodness of his heart. Assuming he had one.

Crowley looked at them as though he’d made some kind of mistake in assuming Dean and Castiel were any kind of a threat. “I’ve met squirrels with more sense than you,” he said to Dean but there was no barb there, simply an observation. “Lilith’s Crook summons demons back into Hell but it also puts them under the command of the one who possesses the crook.  _ Which  _ with the help of you two morons will be me. You get Hell closed and I get the crown.”

Another look passed between Castiel and his mate.

“ The crown?” Castiel asked.

“ Of Hell,” Crowley huffed with a roll of his eyes. “Honestly, what is  _ wrong _ with you two?”

Dean caught Castiel’s eye and shrugged.

“ I didn’t know Hell had a crown,” Castiel offered.

“ It’s a figure of speech!” Crowley hissed. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an entirely human gesture. “I’ll be in charge. The Head Honcho. The King.”

This time when Dean caught Castiel’s eye there was the hint of a smile. The one that usually meant he was about to deliberately step on Sam’s last nerve.

“ So, you won’t actually get a crown?” Dean asked with his most winning smile.

Crowley remained unimpressed. For a moment his eyes darted to the corner where Castiel could see the Hellhounds just waiting for Crowley to allow them to go back to their goring. Crowley looked like he sorely wanted to give them the excuse.

“ If you know where the crook is, why do you need us?” Castiel challenged.

Crowley opened his arms impatiently. “I don’t know where the crook is. I know several locations that the crook might be. And I don’t have the muscle to take on the nasty sods we’ll run into along the way. But you,” he said to Castiel pointedly, “are an angel carrying the brat that’s going to kill us all. You should be more than a match for them. Besides, if you get the crook for me I won’t have to get my hands dirty and I’ll have deniability later. Frankly, if the choice is getting sealed away into Hell for the rest of eternity or blinking out of existence then I’m going to make Hell as comfortable as I can for myself.”

Castiel looked to Dean and they had a conversation with their eyes alone.

It made sense.

It was clear neither of them wanted it to but it  _ did _ make sense.

Though it was disconcerting that the demons knew of their plans when they hadn’t told anyone beyond Dean’s brothers and an archangel. But, Castiel realised with a sigh that it was all rather irrelevant. He could see from the look in Dean’s eyes that he’d reached the same conclusion.

They were going into Hell. Alone. With no idea of what they were looking for or where it might be and there were bound to be obstacles. Besides, what did it matter to them if Crowley became the ‘King of Hell’. If they were successful nothing in Hell would ever get out ever again. The demons would hardly be lining up to petition the future King Dean to deliver them from their wicked ruler.

Dean gave a slight nod and Castiel huffed a sigh. “Alright. Fine but when you betray us, I’ll be the one to carve out your heart.” He allowed his grace to flash behind his eyes for a moment but Crowley seemed unfazed.

“ Oh Cas,” he sighed using the name Dean and Dean alone used for his angel. “Such a flirt.”

Dean looked about ready to smite him on the spot with or without the power of Heaven behind him. But Castiel reached out his hand to steady him. They were alright. They were fine.

And besides, if Crowley delivered then their chances of actually finding Lililth’s Crook had increased significantly.

* * *

The journey to Hell was always going to be a tedious one. The demons had razed everything that might have once claimed to be civilisation and left only ashes in their wake. Unsurprisingly, in the company of a demon it seemed even less pleasant. 

Dean hated everything about Crowley. He hated the way he'd taken them by surprise, the way he'd laid out a plan which was actually good for all of them (at least until the inevitable betrayal), the way he had a litany of complaints against his demonic brethren and listed every single one of them along the way. Dean hated that he flirted with Cas for the sole reason of making him uncomfortable even though Cas barely registered him as even speaking. He hated the way he managed to look so clean when the air was practically choked with sulphur. He hated his voice, he hated his face and he hated the way Crowley had taken to calling him "squirrel." 

Most of all he hated that Crowley had proved to be at least a little useful. He knew where the demons had clustered together and led them along routes that avoided them. When Dean pointed out that Cas needed to rest, Crowley hadn't been ready with a scathing retort. Instead, he'd pointed out that he had planned their journey with regular stops for such things. 

"Why are you doing this?" Dean blurted out during one such stop. Cas was fast asleep behind him, curled around Dean with one arm thrown across his hips. Crowley had insisted that Dean get some sleep too but Dean had given that a hard pass. 

There was no way in Heaven, Hell or anything in between that Dean was going to leave Cas unprotected. He was exhausted but he could stand another night without sleep. 

He wasn't the one carrying their child. 

Crowley looked at him with something that looked close to exasperation. 

"I told you. The crook gives power over demons. If I'm going back to Hell then I want that power."

"You seem pretty eager to get back there." 

"I am," Crowley replied with a frown. Dean hadn't expected that. He'd expected firm denials; that this was something Crowley had resigned himself to rather than something he actually wanted. 

He really did keep surprising them. 

"I never liked it out here. Upper management have no class. They get topside and do what? Raze and pillage? How original. Somehow they've managed to make this place less palatable than Hell itself," he snapped, gesturing to the barrenness beyond their little camp. "Everyone is just scrambling for what little power they can get and they don't know what to do with it when they get it. Hell's been without a ruler for a long time and it shows."

"And you want to change all that?" Dean asked, raising his eyebrow to complete his 'I don't believe you' look. 

"I don't know why you find this all surprising, squirrel. Even your limited capacity for understanding should stretch to: If I'm going back I want to be comfortable."

Dean huffed. He hated how reasonable Crowley sounded. He hated how he tried to make it sound like this was all just good sense on his part. He hated how it was just good sense on his part. 

Dean pursed his lips and asked the question that had been bothering him for days. "How did you know about the baby anyway? How did you know about our plan to get the crook."

"I have spies in the Archangel's camp," Crowley shrugged as though it wasn't the most unthinkable thing Dean had ever been presented with. 

"Angels? You have angel spies?" 

"It's not as uncomment as you think. Lucifer was an angel after all." 

Dean opened and closed his mouth several times but he had nothing that could respond to that. 

Crowley sighed dramatically, probably because Dean hadn't appreciated the depths of his scheme or reach or something. The guy did like to brag about his schemes. 

"I have a handful of contacts who keep me supplied with information. Mostly on where your brother intends to strike so I can ensure I'm not there."

"Why deal with angels?" Dean asked with a frown. Angels were so pure, so untouchable. Humans though… 

"Humans are so fragile," Crowley pointed out. "Angels are much more permanent. There's a lot less legwork involved. Besides angels can be banished. Humans have to be killed and do you know how expensive this suit was?" 

But Dean's mind had come to a screeching halt. He looked down at Cas. Gears turned in his head. Gears that had tried to turn when Crowley had first presented his plan but had gone nowhere. 

"Angels can be banished?" 

Crowley's lips curled into a smirk but he didn't seem surprised. "Did mummy not tell you that? Of course, she wouldn't have."

Again Dean looked down at Cas. He hadn't told him of his plan, he knew that Cas would never go along with it. But… If angels could be banished… 

"I'm not going to banish him," Crowley said lazily as he followed Dean's gaze. "I meant what I said about needing some muscle to find the crook. Lilith was a conniving little bitch. She-" 

Dean cut him off more with a look than his words. Cas was still warm around him. There was a chance he'd wake up and hear everything but… 

"Can you show me how to banish angels?" 

There was that smirk again. "Why ever would you need to know such a thing?" he asked, his voice a picture of faux innocence. 

Behind him, Cas' chest rose and fell in a steady pattern. His hand was splayed across his abdomen as though reaching for the child he carried. 

_ Their child.  _

The bond between Dean and Cas was something warm wrapped around them both. Connecting them both. And it had only gotten stronger since Cas had fallen pregnant. 

Which is why Dean knew he would do anything, _anything_ to keep Cas safe. 

"Will you show me?" he asked again, his eyes on Cas and his voice little more than a whisper. 

"If you stop asking me questions about why I'm doing this when I've already told you, sure," Crowley said as if it was nothing to him one way or another. 

Dean couldn't look away from Cas. He was so beautiful. Even from the start Dean had thought him the most beautiful creature in existence. 

Crowley seemed to have picked up on the shift in mood or maybe he just didn't want to run the risk of pissing Dean off while he held his husband's angel blade. Either way, he stopped talking at last. 

"I've never met a demon like you before," Dean admitted after Crowley had been blessedly silent for a long time. 

In return, he received a dazzling smile that almost disguised the monster beneath. "I know darling. That's why I'm going to be the king."

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

“This is it?” Castiel asked even though he was fairly sure Dean would have noticed if Crowley weren’t leading them straight to the gates of Hell. 

The three of them had come to a stop outside an _actual_ gate. The surroundings looked like it might have been a cemetery once with gravestones and plinths scattered about the place. There were mausoleums in ruins and even the gate itself looked like it could lead into somebody’s tomb. 

“This is it,” Crowley confirmed. “Welcome to Hell.” 

“It’s actually a gate…” Castiel said in surprise, aware that even Dean was looking at him in confusion. 

Crowley arched an acerbic brow. “You were expecting something else? I believe the clue is in the name:  _ gate _ .” 

Castiel almost argued the point. Almost told them that the gate that led into purgatory wasn’t a gate at all. Not in such a literal sense but there seemed little point. Somewhere inside him, he felt the baby twitch - not quite a kick, but movement enough that suggested they weren’t impressed. 

Nor should they be. 

Castiel could only hope that if they got this, the most idiotic and insane plan ever conceived of, out of the way early then the baby should at least grow up in sensible surroundings with fathers who didn’t put themselves at risk like this. 

Castiel’s hand drifted to his abdomen where he was showing quite clearly now. His fingers traced the swell of his stomach and he couldn’t help but sigh. It shouldn’t have been like this. He should have been at home with his mate revelling in growing the life within him. They should be lying in the gardens watching the bees. His head should be in Dean's lap and Dean should be surrounded by flowers. Instead, he was _here_ …looking up at the gates to Hell in the company of a demon. 

As though he’d sensed the shift in Castiel and he probably had, Dean stepped over and wrapped his arms around him. Castiel smiled into Dean’s shoulder, pulling him closer. 

“It’ll be okay, Cas,” Dean whispered, “We’re going to be okay.” 

He left a kiss on Castiel’s forehead, holding him there for a moment longer just to extend the touch. 

Behind them, Crowley scoffed. “Yes, yes this is all very romantic. Shall we?” 

Castiel made to follow Crowley but Dean’s hand shot out and grasped his arm. He stepped in front of him, placing himself in front of Castiel protectively. 

“You do know where the crook is, right?” Dean snapped. “If we go in there and-”

“Yes, darling. I’ve led you all the way to Hell itself at great personal cost on a whim,” Crowley snarled and Castiel tried not to laugh. He was not successful but he at least tried. “Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do than babysit you two while you make heart eyes at each other? You think I _ like  _ escorting the means of my own potential destruction? It’s not even born yet and the power coming off that thing is enough to make me nauseous.” 

Dean’s arm remained between them. If the demon did choose to attack then Castiel would likely be more use in the fight. But he still felt protected for it. His mate was determined not to let anything happen to him and Castiel would never tire of it. Not ever. 

“I know where every one of Hell’s vaults is. If the crook isn’t in one of those then we’ll never find it.” 

Castiel’s gut clenched but it was nothing that Crowley hadn’t said before. It had never been a certainty. It just felt all the more foreboding given that they were facing the actual gate. 

“How many vaults are we talking about here?” Dean asked before Castiel could. 

Crowley had mentioned the vaults, of course, but he’d never made it sound like there were quite so many before. 

Castiel didn’t like the way his lips curled into a smile, twisted even for a demon. 

“Only a couple of hundred.” 

Dean practically exploded on the spot and this time it was Castiel holding him back. 

“You lying son of a bitch! A couple of hundred? You never-”

“Dean, leave it,” Castiel sighed even though he would be perfectly content to rip Crowley apart piece by piece himself. 

Crowley was smirking which was even more infuriating. “Listen to feathers, squirrel. You still need me. Imagine having to go through them all without my help?” 

“When this is over I’m going to stab you in the heart,” Dean spat, shrugging Castiel off him but not making any move against Crowley. 

Crowley grinned serenely. “Of course you are darling. Now, we have a lot of vaults to check and if we’re lucky we’ll find the crook before feathers here is ready to pop.” 

Dean and Castiel exchanged a horrified look. Castiel was not going to give birth in Hell. It was unthinkable. It was impossible. It was...a horrific possibility that wasn’t made impossible just because Dean and Castiel didn’t want it too. 

In the end, there was nothing they could do anyway. They had come this far. 

Dean’s fingers entwined with Castiel and steeling themselves, they followed Crowley into Hell. 

* * *

Hell was not the...well...the  _ Hellscape _ Dean had expected. Not entirely. 

Not that he’d given much thought to what Hell might look like but he’d always assumed it would be as blighted and fiery as the lands they’d claimed in the human kingdoms but perhaps with more brimstone. He hadn’t expected it to be quite so... _ vast _ . 

It wasn’t that different from the human realm or Heaven in that sense. Not that he’d been to Heaven but he’d heard stories from his mother of endless white fields and crystal cities. Hell was much the same but without the purity or life. 

Everything burned.

There were fields of ash which dropped into vast chasms. Huge chains, rusted and bloody, reached down endlessly into them seemingly suspended on nothing. Dean made the mistake of looking down into one of the pits and immediately regretted it. 

There was fire in the depths. He could see the glow of the flames and feel the heat of it on his face as he breathed in the ash. He made the mistake only once. He had no desire to feel that heat or hear the screams of the poor souls bound to the chains, broiling and roasting in the smoke. Not again. 

He didn’t want Cas anywhere near the place but there was nothing else to be done. There was nowhere else he could go. Dean would have sent him away or at least attempted to; there was no way Cas would have left him. Every time Dean even thought about it Crowley would intervene before Dean and Cas could have the argument. 

“This was a package deal, squirrel,” he said, “the angel stays.” 

Dean had intended to argue it. He was waiting for them to stop so Cas could rest so he could have it out with Crowley. But before he could they’d come to the first of the so-called vaults. And then Dean had seen why Crowley had been so insistent they didn’t leave Cas behind. 

“Gentlemen. The vault,” Crowley had announced grandly. “Created and sealed by Lucifer himself. Feathers, if you’d do the honours…” 

The doors were sealed with Enochian sigils. Sigils that could only be interpreted by Cas. Now Dean understood why Crowley had been so insistent that Cas remain with them even when he had taught Dean the banishing sigil. Cas opened the door, they stepped into the vault and the pattern was formed. 

Crowley would lead them to a vault. Dean would take care of what few demons had remained in Hell though there were far fewer of them than any of them had expected. Cas would open the vault. They’d search. They’d get nowhere. They’d rest up for as long as Cas needed and they’d move on to the next one. 

It was Hellish without a sense of irony. The vaults were not close together. They were spread out across the ash fields, carved into the deepest walls of the chasms and hidden within chambers in huge labyrinthine structures. Who knew Hell even had those? Well...Crowley did. And talked about them often though Dean was convinced that was less to keep them informed as to their surroundings and more because he just loved the sound of his own voice. 

By the time they raided the fourth (or was it the fifth vault?) Dean knew more about the specifics of Hell than he did of his own kingdom. Not that he wasn’t also getting a thorough education in the more obscure elements of Heaven. The vaults were full of lost treasures and objects Dean had only read of in legends: The staff of Moses, the rock of Calvary, the Ark of the Covenant, the veil of Veronica…

It was the only way to measure the passing of time in such a place. 

There was no sky by which to judge the days. No sun to determine the hour. It might have been weeks or months...probably months given the increasing swell of Cas’ stomach. The baby was growing stronger and Cas with them. The baby had started kicking and not even the fires of Hell could diminish the sheer wonder of that first moment when Cas had pulled Dean’s hand to his abdomen to feel their baby move. 

Cas had slept that night curled in Dean’s arms as Dean glowered at Crowley, angel blade in hand as though Crowley were fool enough to turn on them now. Cas was beautiful in his arms, sleeping peacefully despite their surroundings and Dean had prayed that they find the crook before the baby decided to join them. 

He got his wish.

There was nothing special about the vault. Nothing to separate it from any of the others they had visited. 

“Is this... thirty-one?” Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face but totally unfazed when it came away filthy. He felt like he’d never be clean again. 

“Thirty-two,” Crowley muttered sounding as frustrated as Dean felt. 

It was small consolation to see that their situation was wearing as thinly on Crowley as it was on Dean. Maybe at some point, he might shut up as a result? 

The doors rumbled in a sound that was familiar by now and Dean took our Cas’ blade. In the past, it had been the sound that had alerted anyone nearby to their presence and brought the demons upon them. But this time, as with at least a dozen others, there was nothing. 

The room looked no different to any of the others. Well...maybe a little different seeing as it was an actual room and not a cave. Dean kicked his way through the trash that littered the ground. Why had Lucifer even collected this stuff? It reminded him of the old pirate dens when the only thing the coast had to worry about was smugglers and not fiery demons from the pit. Cas had found a chest and was muttering to it in Enochian but that was nothing new. They’d found the horn that brought down Jericho in such a box. 

“Dean…” Cas called but Dean had found a crown that he was sure he’d seen sketched into one of the old Histories of his kingdom he’d been forced to read as a child.  _ “Dean!” _

Dean turned. Cas was still kneeling in front of the box but he’d picked up whatever was inside it. “I’ve found it,” he said, in little more than a breathy whisper. “It’s real. It’s here.” 

Dean opened his mouth to say something but Crowley got there first. 

“Well, what do you know? We actually found it.”

Cas showed it to Crowley but didn’t hand it over. He was still examining it which suited Dean’s plans. He felt a little numb but he knew what he had to do. He’d already planned it out in his head and it was going to hurt but it was for the best. It was for Cas. Cas and their baby.

He just hoped one day Cas could forgive him. 

“Can I see?” he called, keeping his voice deliberately steady. 

Cas didn’t notice and stepped over as though it were only natural Dean would want to see. Well...it was. Dean couldn’t help but overthink it. Cas held out the crook to him; it was smaller than he’d expected but he wasn’t really paying attention to it. His eyes were on Cas committing every detail to memory. He had been so lucky, so incredibly lucky. He had known from the moment he’d lain eyes on the angel that they were meant to be though even he hadn’t appreciated just  _ how _ meant to be. 

“Dean? Are you alright?” Cas frowned having clearly picked up on the way Dean was staring through him, trying to imprint the memory of blue eyes and soft kisses behind his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Dean rasped but he didn’t sound alright, not even to his own ears. He took the crook and wrapped an arm around Cas, pulling him close so that he wouldn’t see his eyes fill with the tears he wasn’t even going to try and fight. “You know I love you?” he murmured in Cas’ ear.

Cas knew. Cas knew something was up and he tried to draw away but Dean held him fast. “I love you,” he said again. “Look after our baby.” 

Cas pulled back, his face a picture of confusion and horror. He didn’t know what was going on but it was clear he knew that Dean was about to do something stupid. 

Too late he saw the blood on Dean’s hand. 

Too late he saw the sigil Dean had drawn with it. 

And in the brief second it took Cas to realise what it was, Dean pressed his palm to it. He closed his eyes and told himself it was against the blinding light and not the pain in Cas’ eyes as his cry of,  _ ‘Dean!’ _ was ripped from the air. 

When the light faded Cas was gone.

“Well...that was dramatic,” Crowley muttered from the other side of the room.

Dean wiped his eyes in one swift motion and regretted it when the ever-present sulphur that seemed to cling to his skin burned into them. 

“Right, well...hand it over and you can be on your way. I don’t fancy your chances of finding your way out before they close the gates. Not when it’s about to get  _ very _ crowded in here,” Crowley smirked.

He held out his hand for the crook but Dean smirked back. 

“No.”

Crowley’s expression didn’t falter. “I beg your pardon?”

Dean’s grip around the crook tightened. “You think I’m going to give this up to you? Let you become King of Hell, threatening my family just by existing? I don’t think so.” 

The angel blade was still in his hand, the crook in the other and Dean’s knuckles were white against both. Crowley still looked more bemused than anything. 

‘Alright,’ Dean took a breath. ‘Here we go.’ 

He raised the crook to his lips. He would use the crook. Become the King of Hell. Cas would be safe. Their baby would be safe. He-

“ _ Idiot, _ ” Crowley snapped and with it Dean found himself on the other side of the room, smashed into a wall even though Crowley hadn’t moved. He groaned and raised a hand to his head. An empty hand - his blade was where he’d been standing a moment ago and Crowley was picking up the crook. 

_ “No!” _

“I would have honoured my part of the deal, Dean,” Crowley sighed and managed to sound like he was actually disappointed. “I needed feathers to open the doors but you were just along for the ride.” He waved his hand and Dean felt as though he’d been struck across the face with the blunt edge of a sword. He was bleeding from the impact, he could feel it, even though nothing had touched him. 

“I said I didn’t like to get my hands dirty, I didn’t say I couldn’t.” Crowley raised the crook to his lips. “I am a demon, you know and this _is_ Hell.” 

Another wave of his hand. Another blow. 

Dean felt his head loll back and he tasted blood. 

Still, Cas was safe. Cas had gotten out. Nothing else mattered. 

Some witty, smart ass response was on the tip of Dean’s tongue along with what felt like one of his teeth but he never got to utter it. Instead, the only sound that rang out was the deep, low resonance as Crowley let out a breath and summoned every demon in existence back into Hell. 

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

The world around Castiel was a blur. There was a roaring in his ears and he felt like he was being torn through the very fabric of existence. The heat of Hell was gone, all was grey and lifeless. He couldn’t discern a single detail as the world rushed past him and then…

He stopped.

He was standing, his hand still reaching for Dean who was no longer before him.

“Dean?” Castiel breathed. Anguish welled up within him. _“Dean!”_ he screamed, the cry reverberating in the air around him. He fell to his knees.

No. _No no no no no no._

How could he do this?

“ _Dean!”_

Castiel needed to breathe. He needed to breathe, get himself under control and get back to his mate. He could do this. The baby took that exact moment to kick and Castiel could breathe. He curled his hand around his bump, as though it might connect him to the baby.

He was okay. Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

He was okay.

“Thank you, little one,” he whispered.

When he opened his eyes he was calm and Castiel realised he was in Purgatory. It had been a long, long time since he had last been here but it was impossible not to recognise. The forest was vast and colourless. Everything bled into shades of grey; even the leaves and the water held no hue.

Castiel looked around. It had been a rudimentary banishing, he could worry about how Dean had even learned it later, right now he could just be glad that it had been the simplest of spells. It had flung him from Hell and apparently the nearest exit had been that into Purgatory. Which meant somewhere nearby was the doorway. All he needed to do was find it and he could find Dean.

He was going to drag Dean out of Hell whether he wanted to leave or not. He just needed to find-

“ _Castiel?_ ”

He spun around at the mention of his name but he did not expect to come face to face with Sam. Or the archangel Gabriel. Or the archangel Gabriel’s regiment.

Castiel froze. Several of the angels under Gabriel’s command would have been the first to have dragged Castiel to heaven when he first went on the run and from the way their eyes widened it was clear that they would happily do so right now.

“ _Hold!”_ Gabriel hissed, knowing that as well as Castiel did.

The angels held their position though their eyes never left Castiel.

Sam crossed the space between them. “Cas, what are you doing here?”

But there would be time enough to explain it later. Right now all Castiel needed was to find the way back into Hell.

“Where is the gate?” he snapped.

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asked, looking over Castiel’s shoulder as though he’d just overlooked his brother somehow.

“He’s still in Hell, I have to-” Castiel took a breath. “He banished me from Hell but he’s still there. I have to help him.”

Gabriel and Sam exchanged a look. It had been some months since Castiel had seen them. Gabriel was, of course, unchanged but Sam was showing the signs of an extended stay in Purgatory. His armour was tarnished, his beard fuller than Castiel had ever seen and he had apparently developed the ability to communicate with Gabriel without saying a word.

“Back to the gate,” Gabriel called over his shoulder and let the regiment lead them through the forest. A few of them glanced back to Castiel but Gabriel glowered at them and they soon fell back into position.

“What happened?” Sam asked. “What do you mean Dean banished you?”

“I don’t know,” Castiel snapped irritably. “He must have learned the spell somewhere. We found the crook and he banished me.”

“Wait-” Gabriel brought them up short but Castiel kept moving, determined to press on. He couldn’t ‘wait’. Not when Dean was on the other side of Hell with a demon. A demon who had led them to the crook, granted, but a demon nonetheless. “You found the crook? Castiel, wait!”

Gabriel’s hands were firm on Castiel’s shoulders, turning him harshly to face him. “You can’t go back in there. If Dean seals Hell then you’ll be trapped in there too.”

“I won’t leave him!” Castiel snapped right back at him. The angels had stopped moving and Castiel could see the gate. It wasn’t as literal as the gate that linked Hell to the human realm. It was just a cave, its entrance half obscured by a rock but Castiel could feel the difference in the air.

He made to make his move but Gabriel held him back. “Castiel, you can’t. Any minute now every demon in every realm is about to be sucked into Hell and we’re going to close the gates behind them. That’s why we’re here. This was your plan, you can’t go back in there.”

Castiel summoned every ounce of strength that he had but even then he couldn’t move the archangel. It was an act of desperation that he had even tried.

“Gabriel-” Sam started, his voice far softer than Castiel would have thought for addressing an archangel.

“Oh what, we lose Castiel too? And the nephilim? Castiel, we can’t risk it. Imagine if Hell had the power of a nephilim, it’s just-”

“He is my mate,” Castiel roared into Gabriel’s face. But the words were lost as a deafening horn rang out from the gate, throwing every angel including Gabriel to the ground.

The sound didn’t cease, it was relentless and only disturbed when the roar of a thousand demons joined it. They were not physically pulled into Hell but Castiel could see the glow of every twisted soul in the air, sucked through the gate as the angels struggled to push themselves up against the force of it.

“Dean,” Castiel breathed but the sound was ripped from him and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d actually said it.

Gabriel was beside him and he could feel him trying to crawl over to Castiel, no doubt to hold him down before they could seal the gates. But Castiel wasn’t going to let him. He flexed his wings and launched himself at the cave, letting the force of the returning souls take him further.

He would not have chosen to have the baby in Hell, but he would sooner that than bring up the child without Dean by his side.

* * *

Dean’s head felt as though it were splitting open. Everything was dark. The kind of blackness that made him wonder if he had actually died. Death was supposed to be silent, an absence of everything but the noise was unbearable and the pain was incredibly present. Not that he could move to alleviate it, he couldn’t even feel where the pain was. Everything hurt. Everything was loud. It was all too much but there was no escape.

If this was death, it was forever.

But then Dean heard laughing. He shouldn’t have been able to hear anything over the drone of the horn and the shouts of the demons being forced back into Hell against their will but there it was. A malevolent chuckle and a hand in his hair.

Dean’s eyes opened and he realised with horror that he wasn’t dead. Crowley’s hand was harsh against his scalp, forcing him to look up. Crowley’s eyes were red but it was the way that his lips were twisted into an unnatural smile that made him truly look like a demon.

“I’m sure I can find a place for you,” Crowley said. His voice was low but Dean could hear it over everything. It shouldn’t have been possible but then, they were in Hell and Crowley had just taken the throne. He had power beyond what Dean had seen on even the most powerful of demons.

But Cas was safe.

Even if Dean were to become Crowley’s plaything for the rest of eternity it would be worth it. Cas was safe. The baby was safe. Dean smiled even as he tasted blood on his tongue.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed but Dean didn’t see any more than that. The darkness took him as Crowley cracked his head against the wall behind him but even then he could still hear.

The roars, the screams, the horn and then a screech. A high pitch whine that drowned out everything else. Dean wanted to cover his ears but he couldn’t feel his arms to lift them.

There was light. Blinding, pure white light that bled through his closed eyes and then…

Then there was nothing.

Dean thought he really was dead.

It was the only thing that could explain such peace.

It was a surprise when he opened his eyes. He hadn’t expected to ever do that again.

But his eyes opened and he found himself looking up at the canopy that draped over his own bed. The bed he shared with Cas. His bed at home, in the palace. Not the fortress where he had been staying with Sam near the front lines; he was in the rooms that had been refurbished for his mating.

He shifted against the covers. They were as soft as he remembered but his body ached from the effort.

“You’re awake,” the familiar rasp of Cas’ voice came from beside him.

Dean looked beyond the bed for the first time. Cas was there.

His mate.

His life.

“ _Cas!”_ Dean breathed. Was he dead? He must be dead.

He had died and his afterlife was one where he would live in comfortable surroundings with his mate. Dean reached for him but fell back as pain lanced through his side. Albeit once he’d recovered from the pain he had apparently brought with him.

“I didn’t think death would hurt this much,” he mumbled, falling back against the pillows.

Cas arched an eyebrow. He didn’t look happy. He’d sounded relieved that Dean was awake but his face was grim.

“You’re not dead, Dean,” he grunted. “I pulled you from Hell.”

He didn’t sound impressed.

Dean tried to push himself back up again. “But...the crook...Crowley...”

Cas held his hand up to silence him. More than anything Dean wanted to touch him but Cas didn’t move towards him. “Crowley used the crook. The demons were returned to Hell. Gabriel and the angels sealed the gate in Purgatory, Adam and the garrison sealed the gate here.”

“We did it?”

Cas nodded but the movement seemed stiff. “We did it.”

Dean felt relief spread through every inch of him. This was more than he could ever have dreamed of but still, Cas didn’t seem happy. This was everything that they wanted and more; the war was over, they were home, the baby was safe...why couldn’t Cas even look at him.

Dean took a breath, wondering what awful thing had happened to cast a shadow on what should have been a moment of pure celebration. “Cas…?”

“You banished me, Dean,” Cas reminded him coldly. “You sent me away.”

 _Oh yeah. That_.

“I did,” Dean said, meeting Cas’ gaze without flinching. “I thought it was the only way to keep you and the baby safe. I know you’re mad,” he added. It wasn’t as though he could miss the obvious fury burning behind Cas’ eyes. “I was sure Crowley was going to betray us...I didn’t know if we’d both have enough time to get out so I decided not to take the chance. I was going to use the crook myself to keep you safe. But...I’m glad you saved me. You shouldn’t have taken the risk though. What would have happened if you hadn’t gotten out in time?”

“Then at least I would have been with you,” Cas said, softening for the first time. His anger seemed to reside and he finally reached for Dean’s hand. “I would rather fight every day for our lives in Hell by your side than live a moment in Heaven without you.”

Dean ignored the pain so he could slip over the edge and card his hand through Cas’ hair. “Cas,” he sighed. “You know I love you.”

“I don’t want you to love me like that,” Cas said but his touch was tender on Dean’s cheek. “Please. You’re my mate, the one who tamed me. I don’t ever want to be without you.”

It was an easy promise to make now that Hell was sealed but Cas’ eyes bored into him and Dean realised that he had to mean it. It took him a moment to think on it but Cas was patient. His touch was grounding and Dean sighed. “Okay, Cas. From now on it’s just the two of us.”

Cas beamed at him and Dean could see the weight leave his shoulders. Cas leaned in and kissed him, his lips soft against Dean’s. Dean leaned into it and at that moment the baby chose that moment to kick.

They broke apart and Dean kissed the swell of Cas’ abdomen.

“Alright,” Cas grinned. “The three of us.”

“For now,” Dean said, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

Cas rolled his eyes and it was enough to make Dean laugh. Normality seemed to be upon them again.

“I’m still angry with you,” Cas said but it didn’t stop him kissing his husband.

“Wait.” Dean drew back. “How did we get here? My parents...the angels, don’t they want you anymore?”

Cas gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

“Gabriel has convinced the angels to leave us be for now and...I didn’t stop to consider your parent's wishes.”

Dean frowned and looked around himself just to confirm that yes, they were indeed in the palace. The palace where Dean’s father ruled from.

“I brought you straight here and your brothers have been ensuring we aren’t disturbed. I told them we’d face your parents when you were feeling stronger.”

“My brothers? Adam too?”

Cas smiled a small smile. “Adam too.”

“Oh, I bet mother loves that,” Dean chuckles but Cas’ face doesn’t change.

“We just ended the war, Dean. We have sealed the gates of Hell and hopefully with it secured our future with our baby. Believe me when I say inconveniencing your mother’s feelings is not something I’m particularly afraid of.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this wonderful ride and a reminder that if you want more this entire thing was based off anyrei's marvellous fic [How To Tame An Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23198233/chapters/55533112) :)

* * *

Dean’s recovery took far longer than anyone anticipated. Or at least, that was the story Castiel had Sam and Adam put out. In truth, Dean was fine but Castiel wanted them to have some time to themselves. In truth, he was still expecting something to go wrong. He couldn’t help it. They’d achieved the impossible there was going to be an adjustment period.

The angels weren’t coming to take Castiel away and he’d received several letters from Gabriel assuring him of that fact. He really didn’t need to write as many as he had but he’d smuggled letters for Sam in with them and Sam had taken them with flushed cheeks and a plea that Castiel wouldn’t say anything to Dean.

Dean’s parents came by every day though it might simply have been a human concern for their son. Castiel wasn’t prepared to risk it and Dean didn’t seem to be in any particular rush to see his parents. He was still upset that they had been so eager to turn over Castiel and the baby to the angels. Their own grandchild.

“You’re going to have to see them eventually,” Sam told them over dinner. The servants had taken to leaving it outside the door for Sam and Adam to take in for them all.

Dean grunted through a mouthful of food.

“Dean, if you put it off any longer then Dad’s just going to break the door down and drag you out there himself.”

Dean caught Castiel’s eye and they managed to convey an entire conversation without actually saying anything.

“Tomorrow,” Dean mumbled. “We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell Dad.”

“I’ll make myself scarce,” Adam said but there was no hint of resentment.

“You will not,” Sam said just before Castiel or Dean could say it. Adam looked up at them all. Castiel decided to stay quiet – this fight had been going on for long before he came into their lives.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a war on anymore,” Dean said with a smile. “Dad can’t ship you off to the front lines and pretend you don’t exist.”

“And I’ll still need your help managing the men,” Sam said. “There’s going to be a lot of rebuilding to do and you can bet your ass we’re going to be the ones to lead it. I’ve already started drawing up some plans but I’m going to still need my right-hand man.”

Adam smiled into his glass, his cheeks flushing red. Castiel couldn’t help but smile with him. He could feel how much it all meant to the boy. Still, he wasn’t there when Dean and Castiel finally left their chambers the following day.

It took them a little while to actually get out the doors which Castiel would insist was entirely Dean’s fault. It had been months, months since Castiel had seen his husband in his princely clothes. Or any clothes that were clean for that matter. Before they left Dean bathed in rosewater, he shaved and he dressed in what could be considered his most casual doublet and hose but compared to the torn and ruined clothes he’d been wearing since they left the palace seemingly an age ago he looked...delicious.

“We have to go,” Dean smiled into Castiel’s lips as Castiel refused to let them move even an inch closer to the doors.

In response, Castiel tried to press himself flush against Dean’s chest which was practically impossible given how large his bump was. But despite Dean’s words he still felt the need to cross the additional distance between them and press their lips together again.

“We have to go,” he said again even as he chased Castiel’s lips.

“Or we could stay,” Castiel offered, beyond gratified when he saw that Dean was considering it. It had been too long since they’d kissed each other like this.

Far too long.

He nipped at Dean’s lip and Dean fell back against the wall behind him, holding Castiel at an arm’s length while he got his breath back.

“Alright. Let’s go say hi to my parents and then we’re coming back here and I’m going to keep you in bed until the baby is born.”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh even as Dean tried to kiss it from his lips. “Truly I wonder why I ever resisted your charms when we met.”

Somehow they managed to get out of the room with all of their clothes on.

They found the king and queen in the throne room. Sam was there, of course, and so was…

“ _Gabriel?”_ Castiel hissed. “What are you doing here?”

Dean patted his arm and made to approach his parents, leaving Castiel with his brother who looked smug even by Gabriel’s standards.

“Brother!” Gabriel grinned, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I came to tell you that the Host has decided to allow you to keep the nephilim and raise it as your own. You’ve still got to teach the kid how to fight in case we need their help in a war or something. We gotta keep an eye on that King of Hell business and all that...”

Castiel waved him off. “Yes, I know. You told me in your letters. Extensively. Why did you need to deliver the message in person?”

Gabriel looked over at Sam with a long smirk. “I might have had my reasons.”

“Yes, I gather you and Sam have gotten close in the months since we left you.”

Again Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “If I’d known I could have it this good I’d have gotten tamed a long time ago.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You’re an archangel, you don’t need taming.”

“It’s fun though. Maybe I’ll see what the fuss is about one day.”

Dean was heading back to him so Castiel simply stepped away from Gabriel. “Well...I’m sure the two of you will have fun.”

“Oh, we will.”

Castiel turned to his mate. “How was it?”

Dean shrugged. “Not terrible. Dad’s mad as hell that we disappeared the way we did but he’s happy we sealed off Hell. Mom’s just happy we’re back.”

“And?” Castiel asked but Dean only beamed at him.

“And we did it, Cas.” Dean pulled his mate into his arms and held him tightly. “We did it. No one’s going to take our baby away.”

Castiel allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. His hand covered his bump and Dean’s hand covered that. They rested their heads against each other and smiled.

“We did it.”

* * *

Dean sat in the hallway of his own palace with his brothers. Their father didn’t say much but occasionally he would reach over and pat Dean’s hand.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to breathe.

A scream rang out from Dean’s chambers and Dean jumped to his feet. As he had time every time Cas’ cries had echoed through the halls. His father was already holding him back.

“He’ll be okay, Dean,” the king said, firmly but Dean tried to shake him off anyway.

“I should be in there, I should-”

Another cry. Worse, Dean could feel it through the immutable bond they shared. He could feel Cas calling out every ounce of his being. But his father’s arm was strong around his waist.

“Dean,” Sam called, holding him by the shoulders. “You can’t go in there.”

“They’re right, Dean,” Adam said. “Castiel isn’t in control of his power right now. He could hurt you.”

Castiel screamed again and if Dean hadn’t been outnumbered he wouldn’t have let them stop him. But his father was still strong and Sam was immovable.

“Your mother is with him,” his father tried to assure him. “It’s fine, Dean. I know it’s hard,” he said with the long-suffering tone of a man who’d seen it through himself.

There was silence and Dean looked to the door almost desperately. It seemed an age before his mother’s wearied face appeared at the door and she smiled at her eldest son.

“It’s alright, Dean,” she sighed. “It’s-”

But her words were lost as Castiel let out another scream. His mother looked back in horror and vanished back into the room.

“Cas!” Dean shouted.

His mother kicked the door shut behind her and Dean’s father’s grip was relentless.

“Dean, it’ll be okay,” the king kept saying but Dean didn’t stop struggling.

One final scream from Cas and that was it. Dean threw off his father and charged through the door. The air thrummed with Cas’ power unrestrained and raw but Dean paid it no attention. Cas was lying on their bed, his head thrown back as he panted against the pain. Dean threw himself down and took his hand.

“I’m here, Cas. I’m here.”

“Dean,” Cas gasped out. “You can’t-you have to-”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Dean cut him off. “I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s okay, Castiel,” the queen said, soothingly. “You’re almost done.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Cas rasped and Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

Cas dropped back against the pillows, his face paler than Dean thought he had ever seen it which just made the flush in his cheeks seem more pronounced. Sweat clung to his skin and Dean had never wanted to kiss him so much in his life.

“Oh, Cas,” Dean sighed, tracing a finger through his hair, ignoring that it came away damp. “Cas, I love you.”

Cas looked like he might want to say it back but it was lost as his breath picked up. His hand tightened around Dean’s and Dean didn’t even care that he could feel his bones breaking. Cas screamed and then fell silent again, trying to catch his breath.

There was a silence and then the distinct sound of a baby’s cry.

“Is it over?” Cas practically cried, already trying to push himself up on his elbows. “Are they okay?”

“They’re perfect, Castiel,” Dean’s mother whispered.

Dean was aware that he was a father but he couldn’t take his eyes from Cas.

He was so beautiful.

“Here,” the queen said. “Dean?”

Dean managed to look up. His mother was beaming at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Then there was a bundle in his arms and Dean was looking upon a miniature version of Castiel.

“Your son, Dean.”

Dean touched the baby’s face softly. He scrunched his face up and turned into the warmth of the blanket. This was their baby. Then his mother placed another bundle in his arms and inexplicably he was looking into another pair of eyes that were almost as angelic as their other father’s.

“And your daughter.”

“Twins?” Dean heard himself whisper. He never wanted to look away, taking in every detail of their tiny faces. Their fingers clasped around the swaddling cloth. The girl met Dean’s gaze head-on while the boy slept peacefully. “Cas, we have twins.” He looked up at his mate but the image was blurred. He managed to wipe his eyes on his arm without jostling the children.

His children.

Their children.

Cas leaned over to kiss his husband. Dean met him, kissing him almost hungrily but it seemed impossible to convey just how much he loved him. When they broke apart, the fidgeted in Dean’s arms and Cas reached over to take her.

“Hello little one,” he breathed. His eyes met Dean’s again and Dean had never thought for a single moment that he could achieve such happiness.

A long time later after the announcements had been made, after Dean’s parents had greeted their grandchildren, after Dean’s brothers had said hello to their niece and nephew, after the proclamation had gone out and the bells had been rung, the feasting began.

Not that Dean or Cas were a part of it.

The two of them lay in their bed, their bodies arched around the two additional bodies between them. Dean’s hand trailed patterns through Cas’ hair even as the two of them let their eyes linger on the perfect beings beside them.

The girl, Claire, yawned and both Dean and Cas let out a small ‘aw’ in unison. Her brother, Jack, seemed happiest when he was wrapped in a soft blanket and allowed to sleep. Dean leaned in to leave a kiss on their foreheads. To think they might have had to give these treasures up.

“But we don’t,” Cas whispered, reading Dean as well as he always did. “No one is ever going to take them from us.”

Dean wasn’t sure there were words in any language that could possibly express his love and adoration for the angel before him. His true mate.

“I love you,” Dean whispered. It seemed so insignificant and yet it was all he had.

He could feel Cas’ smile in the dim light. “I love you too,” he whispered back as the two of them settled in beside their children, still gazing each other adoringly as they greeted their first night as a family.


End file.
